Fallout
by BurstingAtTheSeams
Summary: Set during and post-Inception.   Ariadne thought she would be overjoyed after successfully completing the Inception. But she wasn't prepared for what came next, the overwhelming sense of loss and the dangerous fallout from the job. How will they cope?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: First off, sorry for the terrible title/summary! This is the first (and likely only) Inception fanfic I've attempted – I usually just read, never write. But I felt compelled to start this after watching the film twice, desperate to figure out what could possibly happen afterwards and smitten with the idea of Arthur/Ariadne. :D Aren't they just the best?**

**Anyway – I hope it lives up to (admittedly not high, from the summary!) expectations and you enjoy reading. If you do, drop me a line to let me know! Any constructive criticism/observations of oversights are more than welcome also.**

**1.**

The first thing he noticed was the sheer amount of water surrounding him. It took all the willpower he had not to take a deep breath, to gasp in the air he so desperately needed. He blinked in a futile attempt to clear his vision as he squinted at the shapes around him. From memory he could place where everyone had been sitting: Yusuf in the driver's seat; Saito in the front passenger's seat; Ariadne to his left, and then Cobb; behind him, Fischer and Eames. He dragged himself around to find the back two seats already empty. Movement to his left told him Ariadne was awake too. He turned to look at her as she gripped his arm with her flailing right hand. Without pausing to think, he reached under his seat to pull out the oxygen tank he had stowed for this precise moment and handed the mouthpiece to Ariadne, before flicking the switch. He could feel his own lungs burning, crying out for a share of the oxygen, but waited until she relaxed her vice-like hold on his arm and gave the inhaler back. Nodding in response to her mute question, he gave her the universal 'O.K.' sign with his hand and took a gulp of much-needed air as she began to swim. Through the murky water he could just about make out another figure escaping the sinking van. _Yusuf._ It had to be.

Taking one last mouthful of oxygen, he glanced around to make sure that everyone else was out.

His heart began to pound when he spotted the dark figure of a man half-floating in the front seat. _Saito._ So he hadn't made it out of the third layer. Arthur had doubted he would, with the amount of blood he had lost in the first dream.

It was then he realised he had not seen Cobb move. He felt his heart sink as he looked at his colleague's motionless body. He grabbed one of his shoulders and shook, knowing it would not work but possessed by the need to do it anyway. His muffled cry died in his throat as he felt the tearing in his chest again, forcing him out of the van at last.

Arthur swam as hard as he could towards the dim light above him, kicking his leaden legs against the pain that was shooting through every limb in his body. He could make it. He _had_ to make it ...

He gasped as the cool air hit his face and wasted no time in scanning the rocky shore around him. It was hard to see with water dripping into his eyes, but he could just about make out two figures hunched together to the right of his vision. _Must be Fischer and Eames._ So the two figures sitting separately to the left must be Yusuf and Ariadne. Yusuf was already leaning against a large rock and ringing his jacket out. Ariadne had just reached a more secluded spot of her own, away from the others, and was clambering up the slippery rocks. Arthur hesitated for a moment before deciding on his destination and setting off towards the shore.

Ariadne was already hunched against a small boulder by the time he reached her, her arms wrapped around her knees as she huddled them to her chest. Arthur scrambled up the rocks to reach her, ignoring the biting wind that hit him as soon as he left the water.

'What happened?' he asked as he sat down next to her.

'Cobb stayed,' Ariadne replied without looking at him.

'With Mal?'

'No, to get Saito.'

'He might get lost.'

It pained him to admit it, but there was no escaping the harsh possibility that he could well have seen his partner for the last time. Awake, at least.

'He'll be fine.'

Arthur frowned as he looked at her. Here was this girl, someone he had known all of two months, telling him with such utter confidence something his logical, experienced mind found hard to believe. After all, had he not been doing this job for years? _Much_ longer than her. Usually, there was no room for doubt. It was his job to work out all the variables, to make sure nothing could go wrong. But then, they had never dared attempt an Inception before. This time, the rules were different, the stakes much higher.

'You can't be sure of that,' he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Despite the crash of the water on the rocks below them and the whistle of the wind in their ears, she still heard him.

'I was there,' she said simply.

She met his gaze this time, and her eyes were shining with such conviction that he almost believed it could be true.

It was only a few moments later that her words registered somewhere deep in his mind and made him grasp her arm as she stood up.

'You were with him? In Limbo?'

She didn't reply. There was no need to. He could tell just by looking at her what the answer would be.

'Jesus,' he muttered. 'You could've ... ' He trailed off, shaking his head. 'We never should have agreed to do this job. I _told_ him it wouldn't work.'

'But it did,' Ariadne said. 'We just need to get back, and – '

'Just?' Arthur interrupted, still gripping her wrist. 'And what about the others? We might – _might_ – have pulled off the Inception, but not the job. If anyone gets left behind, that's it. Job failed. And it's - ' He took a deep breath, letting his arms drop to his side, ' – it's my fault. Yes, it is,' he insisted as Ariadne opened her mouth. 'I should have known about Fischer's training. We would have been prepared. Or better still, not have done the damn thing at all.'

'It's _not_ your fault,' Ariadne said, taking a step towards him. 'Even _if_ Saito hadn't been shot, Mal still would have shown up and killed Fischer and we _still_ would have gone down into Limbo to get him back.'

'And Cobb could have come back with you instead of staying to save Saito. Whichever way you look at it, I'm the one to blame.'

'Cobb and Yusuf should have told us about the effects of the sedative,' Ariadne persisted.

Arthur nodded but said nothing. So many variables, so many chances to make a mistake. Was it really any wonder it had gone so wrong? But he was the best Point Man in the business. It was his _job_ to make sure things didn't. Usually, he did it to perfection. But lately ...

'So how _do_ we get back?' Ariadne asked, punctuating his spiralling thoughts. 'I mean, we don't have a kick to get out of here, do we?'

'No. We just have to wait it out, I'm afraid.'

'But with Yusuf's sedative we'll be down here for a whole week, and Fischer's defences are still after us. We'll all end up in Limbo with Cobb and Saito at this rate.'

Arthur shook his head and glanced up at the bridge they had been on only minutes before. 'I don't think so. Look up there. Do you see any men? I think Fischer believes this is his reality now. He thinks he's already woken up from the dream and feels safe.'

Ariadne sat in silence, apparently contemplating Arthur's words. It was the only logical explanation. He knew they couldn't kill themselves as per usual – then they _would_ end up joining their companions in Limbo. Their only choice was to sit and wait until the time ran out on the clock. If only they hadn't needed such a strong sedative for the job to work ...

'Okay. So ... what do we do now then?' Ariadne asked, a hint of resignation creeping into her voice. 'We can't sit on these rocks for a whole week. I'm already going numb.'

Arthur smiled. 'My thoughts exactly.' He looked over toward the sprawling city in the distance, then checked his watch. 'How about we go and find somewhere to rest up?'

He made to walk off, but paused when he realised that Ariadne wasn't following.

'How are we going to do that?' she asked in reply to his questioning look. 'We don't have any money.'

'Ariadne, how many dreams have you been in now? You think something as simple as that is going to hinder us?' He watched a faint blush colour her cheeks as he spoke, and couldn't help but feel slightly guilty at embarrassing her. 'Come on,' he continued, holding out his hand to her. 'Let's go find Yusuf. We're going to need him.'

They didn't have to look far. The Chemist was already waiting for them at the top of the rocky incline, rubbing his arms in an effort to warm himself.

'If I weren't so worried that Fischer's men would come after us again I'd make the bloody sun come out,' he groaned as they approached him.

'It's only for a week,' Arthur consoled him. 'Let's just be grateful we're here at all.'

The others nodded at the implication, and Arthur saw Ariadne's glance at the water out the corner of his eye. Their situation could be worse – _much_ worse.

'What about Eames?' Yusuf asked. 'Is he still with Fischer?'

'I suppose so. If Fischer thinks this is now reality as I believe, he'll be trying to get back to what he thinks he should be doing – namely, accompanying his father at the hospital. Eames will have to figure out some excuse to get away from him and link up with us later. For now we'll have to lie low. There are only so many places to go in this layer, and we don't want to risk running into Fischer and alerting him to the fact that he's still dreaming.'

The others nodded again, apparently content to follow Arthur's lead. He felt odd being the one they all turned to now, having to make the crucial decisions without Cobb's input. He was used to being the right-hand man, not a leader. _Get over it,_ he chastised himself. _The others are looking to you, whether you like it or not._ He was the Point Man, he was used to planning every aspect of the job, but he could also improvise when necessary. He had proven that in the second layer. But this – this was different. Why hadn't they gone over what to do once back in the first layer? He had assumed Cobb had a plan for that, but had never bothered to ask. Now he wished more than anything that he had.

'Come on, the longer we stand around in the open the more likely we are to be exposed. Let's just try to book into a hotel here and wait it out. You did put a hotel in, right?'

Ariadne nodded, apparently still unable to speak.

'There's two,' Yusuf offered, evidently noticing Ariadne's unwillingness to talk too. 'A fancy one that Fischer is likely to book into and a cheaper one on the borders of the maze. 'I took note of them when we were going over the models back in the warehouse, just in case. I also told Eames about it before we went under.'

'Good. We'll head there and meet up with him,' Arthur said with a sidelong look at Ariadne. Was she even listening to their conversation? 'Ariadne? Are you okay?'

She looked up at him, her face even paler than before, if that was possible. 'Yeah, I'm ... fine. Just tired, I guess.'

'Well, you'll have plenty of time to sleep over the next week or so,' Arthur replied, before realising the absurdity of what he had just said. 'You know what I mean.'

Ariadne nodded again, the ghost of a smile passing over her lips. At least she appreciated the effort. It was more than Arthur usually offered. Apparently Yusuf noted the change too, for he gave a small cough and looked away.

'Er, shall we?' the Chemist said, looking towards the bridge.

Without another word, the trio set off for their next destination, each one bracing themselves for the long wait ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

The three colleagues stood looking up at the building before them, each with a different expression on their face. Yusuf looked relieved to have finally arrived at the hotel; Ariadne's face was blank, as though she was not really sure what to think anymore; and Arthur ... well, he tried to hide his distaste as he watched the 'O' flicker on and off on the neon light, but his poker face wasn't up to his usual standards.

'I suppose it'll have to do,' he said with a sigh. 'At least we know Fischer definitely won't come here. Come on.'

He turned towards Ariadne, who was still staring up at the building as Yusuf hurried through the double doors. Without a word, Arthur put his hand on the small of her back and gently guided her after the Chemist. He wasn't used to seeing her so speechless, devoid of any kind of emotion, but further analysis would have to wait. Right then the most important thing was to get off the streets and away from both Fischer and his projections.

Yusuf was already at the reception desk booking rooms for them all when Arthur and Ariadne entered.

'I'm sorry, sir, but we only have two rooms available at such short notice,' the young lady was saying.

Yusuf looked at the Point Man, a silent plea for assistance evident on his face. He wasn't used to sorting out the details, just as Arthur was unaccustomed to leading a team. Arthur nodded and stepped closer to the desk, releasing Ariadne from his grasp.

'What seems to be the problem?' he asked, trying to sound as normal as possible so as not to alert the projections to their strange presence in Fischer's subconscious.

'I was just saying to this gentleman that I cannot book four separate rooms for you. We only have two vacant at this time.'

Arthur found it hard to believe that a run-down, two-star hotel – if it could be called such – located in Fischer's mind could be near-fully booked, but pursed his lips against such an observation. They just had to go with the flow, as Eames would say. What other choice was there?

'That's fine, we'll take those two then, please,'

'Of course. May I have your names?'

Arthur reeled off four fake identities, just to be on the safe side, before the woman handed over the two remaining key fobs.

'They're both on the third floor, at the far end of the corridor,' the woman said with a smile. 'Have a pleasant stay.'

'Thank you.'

With a quick glance around the room to make sure that none of the projections were acting suspiciously, Arthur gestured for his two companions to follow him to the elevator at the back of the lobby. They rode up to the third floor in silence, Arthur still painfully aware that Ariadne had not uttered a word since their conversation on the banks of the rocky shore almost an hour ago. He may have known very little about the Architect, but even he could tell that something wasn't right. She wasn't usually lost for words, nor so pale. Something was definitely up, and he was determined to find out the cause, one way or another. It wouldn't do to have her suddenly implode and put the rest of the mission at risk, and their very lives along with it.

'Third floor,' a robotic female voice intoned as the elevator doors slid open.

They strode down the corridor to the very end, Arthur checking that they had the right room numbers. _Both next to each other,_ he mused. _Convenient._ At least they wouldn't have to venture far in the next week. It made the waiting game that much easier.

He was about to slot one of the cards into the door in front of him when a booming voice behind them made them all jump.

'What are you doing here?'

Arthur stared at the man walking towards them, silver hair shining in the dim lights above, face dotted with perspiration. _Browning?_ No, it couldn't be. Fischer wouldn't have projected his godfather into the first dream layer, would he? Not with Eames about ...

'I asked you a question,' 'Browning' growled, stopping mere feet from them. 'Explain yourselves!'

Arthur watched as he reached into his inside jacket pocket, the movement slow but assured. He had a second to think before he too plunged his hand down the back of his trousers and whipped out the Glock 17 he had been hiding there. He raised the gun level with Browning's forehead, his hands steady as a statue's. He thought he heard a small gasp to his left – Ariadne? – but didn't let his attention wander from his target.

'Get your hand out of your pocket. _Now,_' Arthur hissed, staring back into Browning's pale eyes.

And that was when he noticed it – the telltale glint that shone deep in the sockets of the other man. He watched as Browning's form flickered in front of them, like a T.V. screen during a bad storm, then disappeared completely, only to be replaced by –

'Eames!' Yusuf cried, letting out a long sigh.

'Bloody hell, mate, no need to be so touchy,' Eames said with a smirk, his eyes resting on the Point Man.

Arthur tucked the firearm away in his trousers again, glaring at the Forger. 'You asshole,' he snapped, fighting against the urge to smack the other man square between the eyes. 'This isn't the time or place to be playing such fucking stupid games. Do you want to end up in Limbo? Because I'd be happy to oblige next time.'

Eames held up his hand in mock surrender, his eyebrows rising up his forehead as he gave in to Arthur's tirade. 'All right, all right, I get it. I was just testing you, that's all. And guess what? You passed with flying colours.'

'Just get inside,' Arthur barked, inserting the key card and ushering them all into the room.

He locked the door behind them as Eames collapsed onto the double bed, Yusuf took up the armchair, and Ariadne stood motionless in the middle of the room. When he was certain nobody could get in, he strode across the room to the window, scanned the street outside, and pulled the curtains shut.

'You know, that won't do us any good if Fischer realises something's not right,' Eames piped up, hands behind his head as he lay on the bed watching Arthur move about the room. 'They'll know where we are straight away.'

'I know that,' Arthur retorted.

But he had to do _something_, anything to make them feel more protected. That was the best he could do – give some semblance of security to the team, make them feel safer in such potentially hostile surroundings. It was what Cobb would have done.

Eames shrugged and looked around the room, as though trying to think of something else to say. 'So ... which one's my room then?'

'There's only two,' Arthur explained as he stood by the window, peeping through the gap every so often, just to be sure. 'So we'll have to share, two in each.'

'Is that so?'

Arthur didn't need to look at the Forger to know that there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and more than likely a sly smirk plastered on his face. He also didn't like the tone of his voice, and turned to look at him.

'Yusuf my man, it looks like you'll have to bunk with our resident stick-in-the-mud for the next seven days.'

Yusuf frowned at him then looked at Ariadne, who was still standing stock-still in the centre of the small room. Arthur said nothing, but felt his jaw clench as he watched Eames' eyes settle on the young Architect. He still had to figure out what was wrong with her, and to do that he needed to get her alone, away from the others. She was unlikely to talk with them all sitting there.

'I don't think so,' he said after a short silence.

'Well now Arthur, as much as I _love_ your company, I really don't think I could stand sharing the same room with you for a week straight, so if you don't mind – '

'Eames, just shut the hell up for once,' Arthur cut in, his voice firm, with a note of authority that seemed to dare the Forger to disobey him.

Eames refrained from uttering another retort. As infuriating as he could be at times, he knew when to stop the goofing around and play it serious. Arthur watched the Forger's eyes flicker from Ariadne to the Point Man, and back again, before standing up and performing an elaborate stretch.

'Well, I don't know about you lot, but I'm beat. Dream or not, I think I'm going to change out of these sodden clothes and grab forty winks. Come on, Yusuf, up you get.'

Yusuf took the other card key from Arthur and followed without a word, but not before casting his gaze over the two companions left standing alone in the room. Arthur let out an audible sigh as the door shut behind them. He looked at Ariadne's statuesque form before dropping into the chair vacated by Yusuf.

'Ariadne,' he said softly, trying to coax her back from wherever her mind had taken her.

Her eyes met his, but still she said nothing. He was at a loss to understand what had happened to her in the last hour. She had been so confident as they sat talking on the rocks, mere minutes after nearly drowning in the van. What had been going through her mind to make her suddenly so quiet?

'Please, take a seat,' Arthur continued, gesturing to the empty bed. Ariadne did as instructed. 'Now, don't tell me you're just tired. I've been doing this far longer than you and I can recognise the signs easily enough. What's eating you?'

She shook her head, seemingly unable to form a coherent sentence. Arthur took a deep breath. This was going to be tough.

'You were so sure of yourself earlier, when we were talking about Cobb. Something's obviously been bugging you since then. I need to know what it is, so we can talk it through. We can't afford to bottle up our fears here. If you suddenly snap ... well, it puts us all at risk. You understand?'

She nodded. He realised how cold it sounded, but he had to put the team first. Their survival was his number one priority right then. They were _his_ responsibility, now that Cobb –

'I'm sorry,' Ariadne said, her voice as soft as a whisper. 'I just – I can't stop thinking about the others.' She looked up at him, her dark eyes brimming with unshed tears. 'What if they don't make it back?'

Arthur shifted in his seat, but didn't break eye contact with her. As unused as he was to such a situation – no-one had ever started to cry in the middle of a job before – he knew how important it was to have this conversation. _For the good of the team._

'Barely an hour ago _you_ were the one telling _me_ how certain you were that Cobb would be okay. What's changed?'

Ariadne shook her head again, her shoulders rising and falling in a small shrug. 'I don't know. I guess ... I didn't realise how much more we'd have to endure before getting back. I mean, what if the projections suddenly turn on us? We'd never hold out against them, not for nearly eight days.'

Arthur stood up and moved to sit next to her on the bed, though he still maintained a professional distance between them. 'Look at me,' he said as she turned away to stare at her own hands. 'Look. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it, okay? Right now we're fine. As long as we don't do anything stupid and we stick together, we'll be back on that plane in no time. I won't let anything happen to you – to any of you. All right?'

Ariadne nodded, though she seemed far from convinced. 'Thank you. I'm sorry, I just ... I'm not usually like this.'

It was Arthur's turn to shake his head. 'Ariadne, you don't have to apologise. It doesn't matter how much training you had, you're still not used to this. And to get this far on a job as big as this one – it's impressive, to say the least. But it's all right to have your doubts. We all have them. It's natural when you work with and in dreams.'

'I bet _you_ don't,' Ariadne muttered, and Arthur thought he detected a hint of a smile on her lips.

'I do, sometimes. I just learn to deal with them and use them constructively. In my line of work I can't afford to let them overpower me. I wouldn't be a very good Point Man if I did.' He stood up again and walked over to the en-suite bathroom. 'Come on, have a shower, get changed, and I promise you'll feel better. I'll wait until you've finished and then I'll do the same.'

Ariadne did as she was told without a word, leaving Arthur alone in the tiny room. He could tell how rough this was going to be – what with Eames' restlessness and Ariadne's sudden loss of confidence – but they would get through. They _had_ to. Failure was most definitely not an option.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: First off, I just wanted to say how overwhelmed I was when, upon opening my emails at work this morning, I found so many people had already favourited/alerted my story! It's great to know that others are enjoying it besides myself, and really makes all the time and effort worthwhile. I can now understand how gratified people are when they receive these, as well as reviews. I currently have 12 chapters at the ready so should be updating one or two per day for the next few days.**

**Secondly, a note about the story itself: the beginning was originally very different, so that what is now Chapter 5 was actually Chapter 2, before I rewrote it all after seeing the film for the second time. I never intended to explore what happened during their time in the first dream layer, waiting for the sedative to wear off, but hey, so it goes. I should reiterate, though: the bulk of this story will not be set here. I feel it would be too repetitive to write a whole chapter on each day they spend there, as they really are only hiding out and biding their time, which could get rather boring. However, if people would like me to include more chapters in between (before it continues post-Inception), I would be more than happy to oblige.**

**Lastly, if anyone has any suggestions/questions regarding the story, or would simply like to read it before I publish/be a Beta (?), feel free to PM me. I was unaware that stories were not automatically granted a Beta upon publication, though I am very rigorous in my checking of spelling, grammar etc., having spent the better part of 4 years studying English at uni! Still, we all make mistakes. Now - enough of the babble! Here's the next chapter. :)  
**

**3.**

Ariadne was surprised at how quickly she became bored during that week, stuck in the hotel room with nothing to do but wait. Eames tried to lighten the tension that had rapidly descended upon the team, but there was only so much of his banter she could take. Arthur, predictably, grew tired of the Forger far sooner than the others. She lost count of the number of times she had to listen to their bickering, over things as trivial as the colour of the hotel towels. Eames maintained they were just blue, whilst Arthur – correctly – explained that they were a shade of teal. Eames had shaken his head and called Arthur all manner of lovely names, from 'posh git' to 'fuddy-duddy', leaving the Point Man to take his frustration out on his own teeth. His grinding had irritated the Forger further, cue another argument.

This time the debate was over the song used for the synchronised kicks. Ariadne and Yusuf, as usual, played no part in the dispute. She was lying on the bed, resting against the headboard for support, whilst Yusuf was in his customary chair. Eames sat on the edge of the bed, kicking his feet against the mattress. Arthur had taken his usual post by the window.

'Look, mate, I know you like to keep things traditional and all, but seriously, that song's more than retro. It's bloody ancient! You should get with the times.'

'It's not about personal taste, you idiot,' Arthur retorted. 'Changing it would screw up the whole process. I'm the one who has to work with the beats and judge when to implement the kick, so I say it stays.'

'But it's so boring,' Eames whined, looking around at the others for support. Neither said a word. 'Come on, won't you even consider a change? You can get used to the rhythm of another one easily enough.'

'We've always used it, and we're not about to change it now just because _you_ decide you don't like it.'

Eames shook his head, a motion Ariadne was quickly becoming used to seeing. 'I should have known a boring fart like you would love a song like that. Whoever chose it ought to be shot.'

And that's when she saw it – the dangerous flash in Arthur's eyes, the one that threatened violence should he be pushed further. She had only seen it once before, earlier in the week when Eames had posed as Browning to trick them all. She had honestly thought he was going to punch the Forger flat in the face for his stupidity. And here was the same expression again, this time accompanied by a clenched jaw and balled-up fists. His lips were pursed into a tight, white line as he glared at Eames. Ariadne marvelled at Eames' nerve, that he could sit there so calmly under such a murderous stare, before she realised that he wasn't even looking at Arthur. She watched in horror as he opened his mouth to continue the row.

'Eames, just drop it,' she found herself saying, unaware that she had decided to intervene until the words were out of her mouth.

Eames looked at her, his eyebrows raised. 'Nice of you to join in, darling. How about backing me up for once? What do you think, eh? A nice change would do us all the world of good. Hypothetically speaking, of course. It doesn't really matter two jots to me what happens. I'll be booking a plane back to Mombasa the second our curfew ends in L.A.'

'Then why start the argument in the first place?' she asked, frowning.

Eames shrugged. 'I love a good debate, me. It's stimulating for the brain. So come on, what do you think?'

Ariadne shook her head. 'I think you should shut up and talk about something else.'

She glanced over at Arthur, who had turned his back on the group and was staring out of the window again, as was his wont. Eames followed her gaze, shrugged again, and looked at Yusuf.

'Don't look at me,' the Chemist said, holding up his hands. 'I'm going back to my day job after this. Too much excitement for my liking. I'm going to stick to just mixing the compounds in future.'

'Well, a fat lot of fun you two are,' Eames sighed as he stood up. 'I'm going back to my own room to grab a beer from the mini bar. Might be the last time I get to have a free one if all goes to plan tomorrow. You coming?' Yusuf nodded and headed to the door. 'What about you, love? Fancy one last celebratory drink?'

'A bit premature for me, thanks,' she said, her eyes on the Point Man's back again. He still hadn't turned around. 'I'll wait until we actually get back.'

'Suit yourself.'

Without so much as a cursory glance at Arthur, Eames followed Yusuf out of the door and back into his own room. Ariadne waited until the door shut behind them before sliding off the bed and walking over to the window. She noticed that Arthur's hands were still clenched, but his breathing had returned to normal. That was something. She stood silently behind him for a while, watching the projections below going about their daily lives in Fischer's subconscious. She was sure the man with the blue suit and black briefcase did the same thing every day, but then, it could well be a different projection. She hadn't paid as much attention to the streets below as Arthur had. He seemed to have been watching for something the whole time, ready in case he was needed to protect the team. It had taken her a few days to accept that they really were safe in the hotel, that the projections weren't going to suddenly turn on them and shoot them dead, propelling them into Limbo. She suspected it had a lot to do with Arthur's constant vigilance, and his insistence that he wouldn't let any of them harm her. _The team,_ she reminded herself. _He won't let them hurt any of us._ The others just hadn't been in the room when he had said it. She had the feeling that he was doing it on purpose, constantly reassuring her so that she wouldn't slip back into the confused, frightened daze she had been in when they had first arrived at the hotel. It seemed to have worked so far.

After a few minutes in silence, Ariadne decided she could bear it no longer and looked up at Arthur. His lips had returned to their usual colour – though they were still paler than most – and the angry flush that had coloured his cheeks during his latest spat with Eames had completely disappeared. Perhaps now was the best time to test the waters.

'Arthur?' she said, staring up at his pale, angular face. He didn't look at her, but she could tell he was listening. 'You know, you should just ignore him. He does things to wind you up. It's his way of relieving the tension, I think. Apparently he doesn't do a very good job of it, though.'

She thought she saw a slight smile appear – not on his lips, but deep in his eyes. But she couldn't be sure from this angle. It gave her the encouragement she needed to carry on.

'Personally, I love that song. I always have. It's played so much in the little cafés and bistros I used to go to in Paris. It's nice to listen to while trying to work on a project, or when I just want to chill out with a coffee.'

And now she couldn't get Edith Piaf's song out of her head. _Way to go,_ she thought as she fought the urge to sing it out loud. _That'll be there for a week now._ Still, at least it _was_ a beautiful song.

'It was Cobb's idea to use it,' Arthur said suddenly, just as Ariadne had arrived at the end of the eponymous sentence in her head.

'How comes?' she couldn't help but ask.

'It was one of Mal's favourites. He told me they would listen to it before and after they went under, every time. It soothed her to hear to it. I guess that's why he's kept it for so long.'

Ariadne nodded along as he spoke. It made sense now. Cobb liked it for personal reasons, and Arthur, being Arthur, found it useful on the job. There was no point breaking up such a perfect partnership just like that. Much like the two men themselves, Ariadne mused, before realising what she was thinking. Whichever way the job ended, _that_ particular collaboration was doomed. If Cobb made it back, he was returning to his family, likely never to engage in Extraction or any such business again. And if he didn't escape Limbo ... well, the alternative was even worse.

And Arthur? What was he going to do when they landed in L.A.? She had never thought to ask him. Truth be told, she hadn't had the heart to do so, for it would inevitably involve mentioning Cobb and what he would do without him. Looking at him now, seeing the unfamiliar uncertainty etched into every line of his face, she couldn't do it. So she settled for looking out of the window with him instead, watching the projections down below and wondering what she herself would do once they finally got back.


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

Arthur lay awake that night, unable to sleep even in the dream. His mind was focused on the morning ahead, when, assuming his calculations were correct, the dream would finally collapse and they could get back to reality. If he was being completely honest, he hadn't had a wink of sleep since their first night in the hotel, and he was quite amazed that the others found it so easy to drift off. His mind kept telling him that it wasn't real, that he was actually asleep on a plane and thus did not need to rest. Still, even in a dream he could feel the effects of his forced insomnia. The circles under his eyes had grown darker each day, and his eyelids felt so heavy he thought he would never open them again once he blinked. But here he was, staring up at the ceiling as he rested his head on the back of the chair. In a fit of gallantry – and after assuring her that he was quite comfortable in the armchair – he had insisted that Ariadne take the bed. For what was the use in lying down when he knew he would not sleep anyway? Not that he told her, of course. She would probably have argued with him and made him share it with her. _Not a bad prospect, by any means,_ he found himself thinking as his gaze fell upon her slumbering figure. He shook his head at the notion, blaming it on the lack of 'sleep', and quickly resumed his investigation of the ceiling. It would not do to abandon his professionalism now, not when they were so close to getting back. The team needed him to be alert, focused on the task at hand, not indulging in some half-realised fancy. It was, after all, the other reason he had remained awake every night while the others slept soundly in their beds. Somebody had to be aware of what was happening around them, ready to do whatever was necessary to bring them back alive – if such it could be called in the dreamscape.

Arthur sighed and looked at his watch. It had been eleven in the morning – dream time, that was – when they had first entered Fischer's subconscious. He had taken meticulous care to work out exactly when the sedative would wear off on the plane, and when it would take effect within the dream. According to his reckoning, they should be on their way back within the next fifteen minutes. He felt his stomach knot at the thought, but quickly dismissed it. This was no time to be feeling nervous. He had to remain calm, rational, if only for the sake of the others. It would all be over soon.

As if on cue, he heard a distant, familiar rumble overhead. To the untrained ear it would have sounded like a thunder clap. But he knew better. He glanced over at the glass of water on the bedside cabinet and watched as it started to ripple. _It's started._

The next one was louder and nearer still, more like an avalanche than thunder this time. Arthur stood up and walked over to the window to peer outside. He could see cracks forming in the pavements already, the projections seemingly oblivious to the deterioration of their reality as it happened all around them. He smiled to himself, feeling his heart race with anticipation as always. He thought he could almost hear a humming sound, like an engine of a car, only far away. But it was engulfed by the next crash as the chimney of the building opposite toppled to the ground, crushing one of the projections beneath the rubble. Still they strolled along as though nothing untoward were occurring.

'Arthur?'

He turned at the sound of Ariadne's voice. She was standing beside him, looking almost as frightened as she had when they had first arrived at the hotel. But it didn't matter now. They were finally going home.

'It's okay. The dream's collapsing, which means the time's nearly up. Another few minutes and we'll be out of here.'

Ariadne nodded, but she didn't look as pleased as he had thought she would. Perhaps she had simply forgotten what it was like to be thrown out of the dream the natural way rather than being stabbed or shot, or anything else that involved a gruesome death.

Arthur flinched when he felt her grip his hand. He looked down at it, so small in his own, but said nothing. If she needed comfort, he would provide it for her. It was the least he could do. Besides, he had vowed to protect the team. If that meant from their own fears, then so be it.

They stood and watched as the world around them caved in. First the buildings, and then the roads, swallowing the cars and projections as they went about their imaginary business. Ariadne disappeared before the floor crumbled beneath them. Arthur realised first because the warmth vanished from his hand, and he turned to find her gone. But it was a good thing. Because it was finally over. At least, this stage of the job was – the hardest part yet.


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**

Ariadne had no time to contemplate the rumbling beneath her feet before she felt the familiar pulling sensation in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes snapped open moments later, her vision blurry from the hours of keeping them closed.

She blinked several times and took a second to get her bearings, furtively taking in her surroundings. No rocks, no water, no crumbling buildings. Just the dull hum of an engine and a white ceiling.

'I hope you had a pleasant sleep, Mr. Fischer,' a woman's voice said to her right.

Ariadne looked across to find a blonde stewardess bending over the still-drowsy figure of Fischer. She could barely contain her excitement as she realised what it all meant. _We've done it. We completed the Inception._ She had to remember to stay calm and not jump up to hug her companions. She couldn't give the game away, not now they were so close.

_Arthur._ The thought hit her like a bolt of lightning. Her resolve gone, she leant around in her seat to look behind her. The corners of her mouth twitched into a small smile as she found him already watching her, his expression impassive. But she could have sworn, as she stared back into his eyes, that she could read the same immense relief she could feel bubbling away inside of her. The slight, almost imperceptible nod of his head said it all. _We did it._

'Can I get you anything, miss?'

Ariadne snapped her head up to look at the stewardess standing next to Arthur. _Use her as cover,_ her mind urged. _Don't give yourself away now._

'A glass of water would be lovely, thank you,' she replied, turning back in her seat and glancing at Fischer.

There was no need. He was busy staring out of the small window, more than likely mulling over the strange 'dream' he had just woken from. As she watched him, she felt an odd sense of guilt creep over her. She had known all along that their actions were illegal. It had bothered her somewhat in the beginning, until the first time she had experienced the pure creativity of the dreamscape. Then she had forgotten all about the ethics involved and simply immersed herself in the artistic side of the job.

But now, seeing his confusion, his uncertainty ... she couldn't help but wonder if they had done the right thing. The Inception was going to change Fischer's life forever. For better or worse. What was it Cobb had said? The idea would come to define him ... or destroy him.

_Cobb. _She let her gaze settle on the man opposite her, her heart pounding in her chest. It had all been for his sake, the whole job. So he could get back to his children. Arthur was right. If anyone was left behind, they had failed. What was the point of it all if Cobb and Saito didn't make it back?

She nearly gasped when his eyes suddenly snapped open, his expression one of bewilderment. He looked first at Arthur, and then her. She grinned, listening to Saito's hushed phone call from the seat in front of her as Cobb's eyes found their employer, her own concern regarding Fischer vanishing with the final realisation.

This was it. It was finally over. As they would say in the movies, it was _The End_.

Ariadne had to remind herself not to speak as the others left the plane and headed towards Customs. There was still one last hurdle, for Cobb at least. Would Saito's influence be enough? Would he finally be able to go back home to his family, after all the time spent away from them? Whatever nerves she was feeling right then, she was sure his were a hundred times worse. It was all or nothing now.

She tried not to look at him as they both approached their separate customs officers, she really did. But when he muttered those final words – 'Welcome home, Mr. Cobb' – she couldn't help the smile that broke out on her face. That really was it. Finished. They had succeeded, where everyone had said they would fail. Even Arthur, the man who could do seemingly anything, had doubted it. And yet here they were, at the end of it all.

Ariadne half-expected him to say something, to turn around and acknowledge them in some way before he walked out of their lives completely. It seemed like she hadn't seen him in weeks – and so it was, though of course not in reality. So she felt rather helpless as she watched him retreat into the distance, with only his briefcase in hand, without so much as a backward glance at the companions who had just made his dreams come true. She wanted to shout out to him, to say something – _anything_ – one last time, but she knew better. It wasn't worth the risk.

Ariadne sensed the presence behind her before she heard the whisper in her ear.

'Grab your bag and keep moving.' She tried to turn around, but his hand was on her back, urging her forward. 'No, don't look. We're strangers from now on, remember.'

She sighed. Arthur, ever the pragmatist. She did as he said and whisked her bag off the conveyor belt as it came round, all the time aware that his hand never left the small of her back. She thought it rather hypocritical, for strangers would never behave in such a way towards each other, but she knew better than to say so. Besides, it was rather comforting, in a strange sort of way. That slight contact, his warm hand touching her, was her last link to the world she was rapidly leaving behind. It was proof of all she had just accomplished. The last thing she wanted right then was to let it go.

She had to suppress a sigh of disappointment when Arthur moved away from her, removing that last connection. She desperately wanted to look into his eyes, to see the same sense of frustration and emptiness there, but knew it was pointless. He was used to this life. Once a job was complete, that was it, all ties to it were severed. He had told her so himself during those long hours of training together. Deep down, she knew once the loose ends had been tied up, she wouldn't see him again. Nor any of them, for that matter. That knowledge upset her more than she had realised until then.

'You remember where to go?' Arthur's low voice in her ear made her jump, so lost was she in her own thoughts.

'Um, yeah. I think so.'

Some hotel about five miles away, if she could recall. Everyone apart from Cobb was staying in one for the next four days until they were sure there would be no fallout from the job. They had to be 'perfect strangers' until then – Arthur's words. He wasn't doing a very good job of it now, though, she thought with a small smile.

'You'll be contacted in a few days to settle the payment and anything else related to the job. Until then, lie low, just like before. We can't afford to blow it now.'

Before she could say a word he had stepped forwards and hailed a cab, gesturing for her to get in.

'Here you are, miss,' he said, a little too loudly. 'This will take you where you need to go.'

Ariadne looked up into his face, so emotionless as usual, and did as instructed without a word. This would likely be the last time she saw him, her mentor in his immaculately pressed suits and perfectly slicked-back hair. She couldn't help but feel a pang of regret as she turned and watched him disappear from view. She had shared so many of her recent fantastical experiences with him, not least of all that unexpected kiss within the confines of his own dream. The memory of it made her smile. It was so unlike Arthur. He never did anything unless it was required of him, particularly whilst on a job. That much she had figured out rather quickly. And yet ... he had shown his more playful, adventurous side to her when she had least expected it.

She hadn't realised until their stay in the first dream layer just how much she had come to depend on him. From the moment she had been thrown out of her second dream, after Mal had stabbed her, he had been there, at her side. Throughout all those training sessions, hours upon hours of learning the subtle nuances she needed to succeed as their Architect, he had been there, the whole time. When she had gone under during the first and second layer of dreams, and again woken up to the sheer volume of water crushing the very life out of her, there he was. It was no coincidence it had been his arm she had desperately clung to, silently begging for help; nor that he had been the one to calm her down, give her hope, to anchor her to the reality – for lack of a better word – of the dream, when she had been close to crumbling in the hotel. She knew, no matter what the situation, he would be there to help. Perhaps she had always known.

And now ... now she had to watch him vanish from her life, like all the others, as though none of it had happened.

The realisation brought tears to her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**

Ariadne thanked the driver as she gave him the fare and told him to keep the change. She took a deep breath as she looked up at the unassuming building towering above her. She had chosen a simple three-star hotel – _Great, _another _four days holed up in a poky room_ – one in which a multi-billionaire like Fischer would surely never look for her should their actions become known to him. It wasn't as grand as she would have liked, with the money she was going to come into, but it would do. _Just ignore the paint peeling on the window panes and doors and you'll be fine._

Gripping her small suitcase in one hand and jacket in the other, she marched through the double doors and into the small lobby. She immediately felt right at home, surrounded by numerous fake potted plants and gaudy paintings, trying to give the impression that the hotel was more luxurious than the rating suggested. She knew without checking that the magazines cluttering up the small coffee table in one corner of the lobby were at least two months out of date, left there by people who no longer had any need of them. The whole setup reminded her of the many holidays she used to take with her family during the long summers away from school; her mother, father, younger brother and herself, all squeezed into one hotel room for two weeks at a time. She quickly pushed the memories from her mind as they threatened to bring more tears to her eyes and approached the reception desk.

'_Remember, choose the hotel and your check-in name very carefully. Don't use your real name. No-one can know where you're staying. Not even me.'_

Arthur's words came back to her as though from a dream. For a moment she couldn't remember what name she had booked herself under. She felt herself turning red under the receptionist's expectant gaze.

'Do you have a booking with us, miss?' he asked. Ariadne nodded. 'Under what name would that be?'

She racked her brains, trying to picture the phone call she had made in the hours before they had left for Sydney airport. She could see herself standing alone in the room – everyone else was off making their own bookings ahead of time, just to be on the safe side; could hear this same man's voice – she had never expected him to be a thirty-something balding guy, though – asking what name he should book her under. What had she said?

'Oh!' she gasped. 'Mrs. Olivia Darling.'

The receptionist frowned at her, taking in her typically-student clothes and young face, before looking down at the computer screen. 'Ah yes, here we are, Mrs. Darling. A booking for just one person, correct?'

Ariadne decided she didn't like the implication in his words, but refrained from saying so. Nor did she retort with a biting comment on the premature balding of men in the 25-35 age range and how bleak the future looked for them. Instead, she simply nodded.

'Yes, that's right.'

'Room 528 will be yours, fifth floor and to the right as you exit the elevator. We hope you enjoy your stay.'

Ariadne completely missed the small smile he gave her as he handed her the card to the room. She was too stunned by the number on the fob itself to do much else. _Is this a joke?_ She thrust her hand into her trouser pocket and felt the cool metal of her totem, but knew it would look rather strange if she pulled it out and proceeded to push it over on the desk in front of the receptionist.

Without another word she grabbed her suitcase again and hurried over to the elevator.

'Come on,' she muttered as she slammed her fist onto the 'up' arrow. 'Hurry up.'

The two minutes it took to get from the ground floor to the door of her hotel room felt like hours. She stood outside staring at the number for a few moments more before slotting the card into the reader with a trembling hand.

Could something have gone wrong? Was she still in the dream – Arthur's dream, perhaps? No, the hotel was most definitely different.

Then what? Limbo? But then why were other people – _Projections?_ – around? And why had Arthur acted like everything was normal?

She cursed as she realised she was still standing outside the room, looking like a perfect fool to anyone who happened to walk by, and pushed the door open. It certainly _looked_ like your average hotel room. Neatly-made bed, small wooden wardrobe, pay-per-view T.V. in the corner, a door leading to what she presumed was a tiny en-suite bathroom – it was all here. But then she knew better than most how authentic dreams had to be. A successful Architect made sure that the dreamers were unable to tell the dream-world apart from reality. It was all in the details ...

Then again, if _she_ were the Architect, she wouldn't have left a dirty sock under the bed. Her brow furrowed, she dug her hand into her pocket again and pulled out the small bronze bishop.

'Here goes nothing.'

She put it down on the bedside table, scrutinising it for any obvious dissimilarities to the one she knew to be real, before flicking it with her finger. She watched as it fell onto the wood with a dull thud, letting out a breath she wasn't even aware she had been holding. So the room number was a coincidence, after all. If such a thing existed. Personally, she had never believed in them. Perhaps now was a good time to start.


	7. Chapter 7

**7.**

Ariadne spent the majority of the next four days alternating between lying still on her bed, pacing up and down the tiny room, testing out her totem just to be sure, and ordering room service. She had taken Arthur's instructions to 'lie low' to heart, and hadn't even dared to step out of the room, let alone the hotel. By three o'clock on the fourth afternoon, she was close to pulling her hair out. She hated the waiting around, doing nothing whilst at the same time wondering what was to come. Every time she heard footsteps outside the door she was certain it was one of the team, or worse, one of Fischer's men come to take her away for 'questioning'. To anyone else she would seem paranoid. But the others would understand. Arthur had told her what had happened to their previous Architect, at least up until the part where he was dragged back into the hotel room never to be seen or heard of again. Disappearing off the face of the planet was a very real possibility for her, it seemed, and not a particularly appealing one at that.

For the tenth time that day Ariadne walked over to the bedside table and toppled her totem, breathing a little easier once she heard the clunk. It was becoming a kind of ritual for her now, one she could not forgo for long, as evidenced by the faint scratches that were appearing in the wood. She always felt calmer after seeing it fall over, knowing that no matter what else happened, she could believe in one thing at least.

'You know, the answer won't change no matter how many times you push it.'

Ariadne jumped up from the bed and stared wide-eyed at the intruder. The sight that met her eyes was almost enough to make her pick up her totem just so she could push it over again.

Leaning against the door frame in a black three-piece suit, crisp white shirt and perfectly gelled hair was the one man she had never expected to hear from again. At least, not in the flesh.

'Arthur?' she gasped, looking him up and down as though trying to determine whether her eyes were playing tricks on her. 'Why are you here? _How_ are you here? I thought no-one was supposed to know where I was.'

'They're not,' Arthur replied, as casually as if he had just been asked the time. 'Only I do. None of the others have the faintest idea, just like we all agreed.'

Ariadne tried to wrap her head around the situation, her mind torn between asking the same two questions – how and why. She settled for the former.

'Details are my speciality,' he said with a shrug of his shoulders. 'It's my job to research people.'

'So, you knew all along that I was going to be staying here?'

She wasn't sure whether to be impressed or annoyed at the suave Point Man currently hovering in her doorway. How was it he always seemed to know just about everything?

'I knew before we left for Sydney airport. It wasn't hard to figure out. Nice name, by the way,' he added with a smirk.

Ariadne felt her face flush under his gaze as she thought about the surname she had used. Eames had been teasing Arthur as usual just before she had called ahead to book the hotel room and had used his favourite insult, tacking a sardonic 'darling' onto the end of his parting sentence. For some reason it had stuck in her mind.

'But – how did you know it was me?' she persisted, curious despite the intense embarrassment she was feeling.

'Oh, that was easy,' Arthur replied, waving his hand dismissively. 'I'd seen a few Agatha Christie novels lying around your apartment soon after Cobb hired you for the job. You know, the ones with Ariadne Oliver in. I prefer Poirot myself.'

Again, that half-smile, half-teasing-smirk broke out on his pale face. If she hadn't been so mortified, Ariadne would have liked nothing more than to wipe it back off.

'You've been to my apartment? In Paris?'

'Well, not inside, no. But I've seen enough of it.'

'Oh my God,' Ariadne groaned, covering her face with her hands as she thought of the bombsite that was her rented flat. 'How embarrassing.'

'I hear Architecture students aren't renowned for their tidiness.' She could almost hear the grin this time; she didn't even have to look. 'You should try talking to yourself less when you work, though. It makes you seem a little crazy.'

And that was when it hit her.

_He was watching me._ Not just the apartment, but her.

'Wait a minute, you were _spying_ on me?' she demanded, feeling her confidence creep back as her irritation grew.

'I wouldn't use that term exactly,' Arthur said, seemingly unperturbed by her resentment. 'As I said, I research people. It's what I do.'

'I don't believe you people! And you never thought to tell me? Not once during all those training sessions together? Not once during the last _week_ we spent holed up in that damn dingy hotel?'

If Arthur was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, he hid it admirably, much to Ariadne's chagrin.

'There was nothing to tell. Cobb needed to be sure you were trustworthy and up for the job. I told him I thought you were, end of story.'

'And I suppose invading someone's privacy means nothing to you?'

'After what we just did, I'm surprised you can even bring something like that up.'

The truth of his words hit her like a brick wall. She felt as though all the wind had been knocked out of her and stumbled backwards onto the bed.

'Well, I ... that's ... '

She tried to force a coherent sentence out, but couldn't find any words with which to do so. So she settled for opening and closing her mouth in indignation, and more than likely doing a splendid impersonation of a goldfish at the same time.

Arthur stood there watching her, arms folded across his chest and still leaning against the door frame. He didn't look the least bit surprised at her angry outburst. It was as though he had been expecting it.

'I know you're probably exhausted after what we just went through, but it really would be easier if I came in, just for a while,' he said, his eyes never leaving hers. 'Besides, I think the cleaning lady is becoming a little too inquisitive for her own good.'

Ariadne stood up and dragged him further into the room by the sleeve of his shirt, kicking the door shut behind her. Arthur moved to stand by the window, glancing out of it every so often as she flung herself back onto the bed. She felt a horrible sense of déjà vu wash over her at the sight of him standing there, and tried hard to ignore it. She assumed he was on the lookout for someone or –thing, but didn't bother to ask. She had far more pressing questions right then.

'Okay, so tell me again – exactly _how_ did you get into my room in a hotel you weren't even supposed to know I was staying at?'

Arthur brandished a key card similar to her own at her. She wondered how she had failed to spot it before.

'It's really not hard to make a copy when you know how.'

Was there no end to the illegal activities these men got up to? She was beginning to doubt her decision to become involved with them at all. Invading someone's dreams had never felt that bad, which was why she supposed it hadn't bothered her too much. It wasn't anchored in the 'real world', and besides, she had been too wrapped up in the creativity of it all to give it a second thought. But now ...

'I take it from the marks on the table that you passed my little test.'

Ariadne looked at him, bemused. She didn't remember taking any sort of test since she had been there.

'Your totem,' Arthur said, as though that cleared everything up.

With a sigh he held out the key card again, this time with the number facing her. Ariadne frowned.

'528? I passed it off as a coincidence.'

'But not before testing your totem.'

'Are you telling me you had something to do with me staying in this exact room?'

'In a word, yes. You're new to this, to our world. And after a job like Fischer's ... well, I had to make sure you were alert enough to test for reality. You'd be surprised at the number of people who don't bother. That's when things become dangerous.'

Ariadne simply stared at him, at a loss for words. If her mother were there to see it, she was sure she would point out the rarity of such an occurrence.

'So, have you been around to see everyone?' she asked after a short silence, rubbing her forehead as she fought to process everything he was telling her. 'Yusuf? Eames?'

She wasn't exhausted enough to miss the glance Arthur gave his feet before replying. 'No, just you. I usually contact everyone by phone. But as I said, you're new to this. I had to make sure you were okay after the job, after the hotel. And the test, of course ... '

'How did you get this room, anyway?'

Despite her best efforts, she felt her curiosity pique again as her irritation ebbed.

'I made a brief phone call to the receptionist and faxed over a photograph of you just to be sure.'

_Of course, just like that,_ Ariadne thought with a shake of her head. In spite of her utter bewilderment at his many revelations, she couldn't help but marvel at his dedication to the job. Whilst everyone else's duties had come to an end with the completion of the Inception, his continued, it seemed. Perhaps it was never-ending.

'Now that we've established that, we can get down to the real business.'

And just like that, their conversation was over. She thought she could see him change before her eyes, straightening up, becoming more confident as he started to talk about the other side to his job. Even his voice had taken on a more mechanical note, as though he were set on auto-pilot. Just how many times had he given this speech before?

'Saito has arranged for everyone's share of the fee to be wired directly into separate bank accounts, set up expressly for such a purpose. Obviously they couldn't be named. Anything linking us to him would put us all at risk of being found out by Fischer.'

Ariadne nodded along as he spoke, though she was not really taking any of it in. It was all too much: the events of the past two months; being shown a whole new world she had never dreamed could have existed; meeting and working with such a ragtag yet fascinating group of individuals; taking her passion for architecture to a whole new, wonderful level; and now sensing it all come to its inevitable end. She thought she would be overjoyed at the accomplishment, but now the initial elation had worn off, she felt nothing but emptiness. A huge, dark cavern was stretching out under her feet and she wasn't sure whether she should take the leap of faith required. What if she didn't like what she found at the bottom? What if all she uncovered was her boring old life, and that wasn't enough anymore?

This sense of loss was only compounded by Arthur's behaviour. She had thought something had built up between them over the past couple of months. A feeling of mutual trust, respect even, fostered through hours of being in each other's company, she eagerly devouring everything he had to teach about shared dreaming. She had felt the beginnings of an easy companionship – heck, perhaps even a lasting friendship – developing, more so in the week they had spent in the hotel together. And perhaps ... something more? Had he not, after all, stolen a kiss from her whilst in the middle of a job? Had he not gripped onto her hand as they had watched the dreamscape collapse around them, just as firmly as she had his? If there was one thing she had learned about Arthur, it was that he was always focused on the task at hand, never letting his emotions interfere. But in those two moments – those brief moments when she had realised that he had never intended for that kiss to divert the attention of the projections away from him, when she had felt the comforting warmth of his huge hand grasping hers – she had never felt so close to the 'real' Arthur, the man behind the suits and slick hair, the details and research.

And now here he was, back to his business-like best, giving her the specifics of payment before walking out and leaving her to pick up the pieces of her old, dull life as though none of it had ever happened. As though all those hours, those weeks, and those two moments meant absolutely nothing.

'That's everything,' Arthur said with another glance out of the window, blissfully unaware of the thoughts that had been raging through Ariadne's head whilst he had been speaking.

'That's it?' Ariadne asked as she stood up and glared at him. 'Now you're just going to leave without so much as a backward glance?'

Arthur frowned at her. 'Ariadne, what – '

'I gave you people entire _weeks_ of my life – months even, in the dream world – when I _should_ have been studying for my final year at college – I help you pull off something even _you_ thought was impossible – I nearly get _trapped_ in a dimension made entirely of raw subconscious – I get stuck in an imaginary hotel room for seven days, fearing for my very safety – and all you can say is, 'Here's your fee, see you later'?'

'I'm not sure what you expect me to say,' Arthur said slowly, focusing his gaze entirely on her. She found it oddly unnerving, but didn't look away. 'This is how we do things. At the end of the day, it's still only a job.'

Ariadne gave a loud sigh of frustration and threw her hands up in the air. 'Is that all you think about? Your job? What about the other stuff in your life?'

'My job _is_ my life,' Arthur replied, his expression once again impassive.

'What about a social life? Friends? You know, the things _normal_ people have.'

'I don't have any,' he said with a shrug. 'And I would hardly call us 'normal'. It's just how most of us choose to live such a transitional life.'

'What about Cobb? I thought you two were close.'

'I suppose we are, in a way. But it's always been the job that kept us together. Now he's through with it, I don't know what will happen.'

Arthur took a step back, as though only just realising what they had been talking about. He rubbed the back of his neck as he fixed his eyes on a point above her right shoulder.

'Why the sudden interest?' he demanded, looking uneasy for the first time since Ariadne had found him standing in her doorway.

'Oh, I don't know. Maybe I wanted to know more about the people I've just given up two months of my life for. I mean, you know everything about me, right? I know next to nothing about you. Or maybe ... I want to feel like it meant something more than a slap on the back and a pay cheque at the end of it all.'

She sighed again and sat down on the edge of the bed. Arthur remained where he was, sticking by the window as though keeping an escape route open. She would have felt some sympathy for him if she hadn't been so angry.

'I don't know what you want me to say. It's – '

'I get it! It's your _job_. Isn't it _great_ for you that you can just forget about it and move onto the next one. That's what you do, right?'

'Pretty much.'

'Just forget _everything_, act as though it never happened?'

'Yes. It's for the best, for all concerned.' He frowned again. 'Ariadne, I really don't see what you're getting at. What happens in the dreams stays in the dreams. We don't discuss it once it's finished. It's safer that way.'

'And I suppose kissing one of your colleagues and then pretending that never happened either is all part and parcel of the job, too.'

Ariadne thought she could see a faint blush creep into Arthur's pale cheeks as he cottoned on, but she couldn't be sure in the dim light. She was tempted to jump up and turn the lights on, but he interrupted her train of thought almost immediately.

'That ... was a mistake,' he said after a few moments of awkward silence. 'I don't know what I was thinking when I said that, but – '

'A _mistake_?'

'Yes, a mistake!' Arthur cried, raising his voice for only the second time since Ariadne had known him. It surprised her more than she had expected. 'I slipped up, okay? What do you want me to say? It'll never happen again, I can promise you that.'

He looked out of the window again, down at the street below. Ariadne could feel her temper flare as she watched him, clenching her fists together. She couldn't explain exactly why she had become so angry with him, but there was no stopping it now. She had to see it through to the bitter end.

'Do you have somewhere better to be?' she asked coolly. Arthur didn't answer. 'Please, don't let me keep you from your work,' she continued, standing up and opening the door.

Arthur still didn't move. He looked as shocked and confused as she had felt in the minutes after his arrival, but Ariadne chose to ignore the fact.

'Araidne, please – '

'I really don't think there's anything left to say,' she said, cutting him off. 'You've made it perfectly clear where your path lies – all of you.'

She watched as he shuffled over to the open door, his shoulders slumped slightly in defeat, but averted her eyes when he stopped next to her.

'What are you going to do now?' he asked, his hand resting on the door handle.

Ariadne shrugged. 'Probably return to Paris, where I _belong_. And forget any of this happened. That's what we do, right?'

'Ariadne ... '

He was outside now, standing mere feet away from the door. He might as well have been thousands of miles away for all the difference it made.

'Goodbye, Arthur.'

With one trembling hand she shut the door on him and turned the lock.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Just a quick one this time. Apparently I was stupid and didn't copy my last note from Chapter 7 when I replaced it upon picking up on a couple of errors in the text. And now I can't remember what I wrote! So we shall all have to pretend it never existed in the first place and move on with the story. I'm sure that's what most people do anyway. :P Once again, thank you so much for all the hits/alerts/reviews etc. It really makes it worthwhile, and hopefully I can live up to expectations with the forthcoming chapters.  
**

**Oh yes, one thing I did put was a disclaimer, which I've been forgetting to do in previous chapters. Quite clearly, I own nothing to do with Inception beyond the wonderful soundtrack and (eventually) the bluray disk, which I'm already willing to come out mere weeks after the film has debuted. It's just that good.  
**

**8.**

Arthur stepped out of the elevator with a deep frown creasing his brow and his hands shoved into the pockets of his Armani suit. Try as he might, he couldn't make sense of what had just happened. If he hadn't been so sure it was real, he would have taken out his die and rolled it on the receptionist's desk there and then. He knew it was probably the last time he would ever see her and that he shouldn't care, but a small part of him didn't want that strange argument to be the last conversation he had with her. _Okay, a large part,_ he admitted. He didn't want to leave things like that, with the memory of her glaring at him stuck firmly in his mind. Those eyes didn't seem as beautiful as they had when she had been smiling at him. Attractive, yes, even though they had been brimming with a sudden anger that had caught him completely by surprise. _It just proves how passionate she can be,_ he reasoned.

'God, would you listen to yourself,' he muttered.

It was as he passed the reception desk that he heard it: a sharp cough to his right, as though someone was clearing their throat. He ignored it and carried on towards the double doors, but stopped when it happened again, louder this time. He turned to find the receptionist looking at him, as though waiting for something.

'Oh, of course.'

Arthur reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a plain white envelope. He slid it across the desk towards the man without checking its contents.

'Thank you for your help. My company will be most pleased with the results of the training exercise. I trust we can depend upon your discretion in the matter?'

'Of course, sir,' the man replied. 'Nobody shall know about the young lady's stay with us.'

Arthur nodded at him and turned to head out of the building, then stopped in his tracks to lean closer to the receptionist. 'One more thing,' he said, his voice low. 'Would you please keep an eye on her? Just until she leaves, of course. I would appreciate it.'

The receptionist nodded his assent. With a last lingering glance at the elevator at the other end of the room, Arthur turned on his heel and marched out of the hotel towards the taxi parked nearby.

'Where to now, mate?' the man asked in an obviously English accent, reminding Arthur of a certain Forger he had no desire to see again any time soon.

He thought he could see a vague resemblance to his tormentor as the man glanced into his rear-view mirror at Arthur. It was his eyes. The notion did nothing to improve the Point Man's rapidly souring mood.

'I'm not sure yet. Just take us away from here for now.'

'Right you are.'

Arthur refrained from looking up at the window he knew to be room 528's as the taxi pulled off, certain that he would see nothing there. Instead, he stared down at the die that was now in his hand as he tried to decide on his next destination. He hadn't given it much thought since they had landed at LAX airport, which was unusual for him, to say the least. He normally had everything mapped out well in advance, every detail of his life worked out weeks ahead of time. If truth were told, he had been too preoccupied wrapping up this particular job to think much beyond it. It had been such a huge undertaking, one he had never thought he would be a part of. The moment he had seen Cobb's eyes open he knew they had participated in something special, something a world apart from even the extraordinary work of Extraction. They had achieved the seemingly impossible. Not only that, but they had all survived intact. _Well, most of us._

Try as he might, he couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting back to Ariadne. She had clearly been affected by the job more than she had let on. Whether it was simply the mental exhaustion he knew she would be feeling right then, or the conflicting emotions surrounding the moral and legal implications of their actions, he couldn't tell. Perhaps it was the two combined, or something else entirely. Whatever it was, she obviously hadn't been too pleased to see him. He could have kicked himself for breaking his most sacred rule on the job. He always told people: no phone contact for at least four days, and no meetings for another month after that. It was safer that way, harder for anyone to link the team together should they be found out. Worst of all, he couldn't explain why he had done it. He would maintain that it was simply for her own protection and peace of mind. She was completely new to the job. Her first assignment had been to pull off the first known Inception of a target – no mean feat, as they had all experienced. It was his responsibility to make sure that she was all right afterwards. The others were used to doing Extractions at the very least, but not Ariadne. It was unfair to have thrown her into such a difficult assignment so early on; but then again, she had coped with the rollercoaster ride admirably. Perhaps better than he could have ever expected. He would never have guessed from those hours watching her apartment just how resilient she could be when called upon.

He felt a faint flush creep up his neck as he recalled her reaction to _that_ little piece of information. Why had been so stupid as to tell her? She hadn't needed to know, but he just _had_ to crack a joke about the name she had chosen. For some reason, whenever he was around her he felt the urge to relax, to shed a part of his cool exterior and give in to his more light-hearted side. He had become accustomed to her presence during those hours spent training her in the dreamscape, that week nestled in a hotel room, waiting to be released from the dream. _Maybe _too _accustomed,_ he thought bitterly. And look where it had led – an inexplicable desire to steal a single kiss from her before their lives diverged for good. He still couldn't explain his actions, and so he chose to pass it off as nothing, push it out of his mind and – Ariadne was right – pretend it never happened. He had never dreamt she would still be thinking about it days after the event. Why should she?

Unless ...

_Don't be stupid. _He scolded himself for even entertaining the idea. They were colleagues, just like in any other workplace. It was purely business. His work allowed no room for emotional connections. Cobb and Mal had demonstrated how disastrous it could be. But even before that, before he had met Cobb and become the second half of their successful partnership, he had known how hard it was to balance a personal life with the work they did. His life was too transitional, not only moving from country to country at the drop of a hat, but also from reality to the dreamscape and back again. It was too difficult to keep track of relationships both in and out of the dreams. He couldn't afford to blur the lines between the two, and so he had never bothered even risking it. It wasn't worth it.

'You decided where you want to go yet?'

The driver's distinctive voice cut through his thoughts, jolting him back to the reality that was the inside of the taxi. Arthur bit back the instinctive retort hovering on his lips and actually thought about the man's question.

And just like that, he knew where he had to be. It was quite obvious, when he thought about it. It would mean breaking his ultimate rule a second time, but he figured as he had already done it once today, it wouldn't really hurt.

He told the driver the address he wanted to be taken to and settled back into his seat for the remainder of the journey.


	9. Chapter 9

**9.**

Arthur stared up at the large house in front of him as the taxi sped off, eager to collect his next fare. He couldn't say he would miss him – his voice had grated too much, and those eyes ...

But now was not the time to dwell on his dislike of the – albeit talented – Forger. He strode up the small garden path to the front door and rang the bell. As he waited, he looked around at the beds of flowers and small trees around him with a vague sense of appreciation, noting that they still appeared well-attended despite the owner's long absence. In fact, he was sure they had been added to since his last visit all those months ago. Perhaps they had hired a gardener.

Arthur turned back to the door when he heard the lock click and was greeted with a face he had seen only twice before.

'Hello, Miles,' he said with a small smile.

Cobb's father-in-law looked stunned to see him, to say the least. His initial look of concern was soon replaced by a frown as he studied the immaculately-dressed man standing on the porch in front of him.

'What brings you here, Arthur?' he asked, and Arthur remembered at the same moment that he, too, was English. _Just my luck._ 'Nothing wrong, I hope?'

'No, nothing like that. I just wanted to speak with Dom.'

The elderly gentleman nodded and stepped aside to let him in. 'I thought – don't you have a rule about seeing people so soon after a job?'

'Usually. But I really need to talk with him. It's nothing to worry about,' he added quickly, noticing the anxious expression on Miles' face again. 'Trust me. Everything's fine.'

_Well, nearly everything._ Arthur followed him down the hallway and into the wood-panelled kitchen at the end.

'Take a seat, I'll just go and get him from the garden.'

Arthur nodded and took up the offer, settling into one of the dining chairs to his left. He let his eyes wander around the room as he waited, taking in the new details – a small vase of Mal's favourite flowers, orange tulips, in the middle of the kitchen table; a handmade 'Welcome Home Daddy' card stuck to the fridge door with a magnet – and the old ones, such as the family portrait hanging on the side wall of Dom, Mal, and their two beautiful children. Arthur felt a sudden pang in his chest as he studied their smiling faces, noticing the way Dom had his hand wrapped around his wife's waist, the other resting on his son's shoulder. It was less than a month later that she had suddenly committed suicide, or so Dom had said. He never had told him the specifics about what had happened, and Arthur had never asked. He wasn't one to pry. Not outside of work, anyway.

An image of Ariadne's face popped into his head as he sat there, thinking about Dom and his family. Had he been entirely honest about his friendship with Dom? He had told her he had no friends, which he considered to be true. Dom was his partner. They had worked together for so long – and it only felt that much longer on account of the numerous dreams they had shared together, where time was always slowed down. But were they really 'friends'? Sure, he had visited Dom, and Mal when she had been alive, but it usually always involved their work in some way. After all these years ... was this really it for them? Now that Dom had returned to his family, Arthur suspected he would give up Extraction entirely, thus ending their long partnership. And the rest of the team – could they only function together with Dom at the helm, leading the way, giving them purpose? Eames he could live without, he was sure. Yusuf was okay, he supposed, but was always in the background, never a main player. Saito was long out of the picture now that he had got what he had asked for. He had never really been a part of the team, only a bystander, a 'tourist' along for the ride, as Eames had so aptly described him. And Ariadne ...

Arthur looked up at the sound of a squeal from the back garden. He stood up in time to brace himself against the onslaught of the two eager children.

'Uncle Arthur!' they cried together, each one enveloping him in a tight hug.

'Hey, kids,' he said with a smile, ruffling James's long blonde hair and patting the top of Philippa's head. 'How are you?'

'We're fine,' the young boy answered as Arthur knelt down to look at them properly.

'Now that Daddy's back,' Philippa added.

'It's great having him back home, huh?' Arthur grinned.

He had forgotten how adorable Dom's children were. Pictures and memories alone could not do them justice. For some reason they had insisted on calling him 'Uncle Arthur' after his first visit, so taken had they been with him. He had never bothered to correct them. In some strange way, it felt nice to be greeted in such a fashion. God only knew he would never be called 'Uncle' by any others, as much as it pained him to admit.

'Come on kids, let Arthur breathe.'

Arthur looked up to find Dom standing by the back door, hands shoved into his pockets. He grinned down at the children, but Arthur could see past the calm exterior to the troubled expression underneath. He was just as worried as Miles had been at seeing the Point Man turn up at his house so unexpectedly. Arthur wondered whether Cobb had even thought he would see his partner again. The idea that he hadn't upset him, he was surprised to note.

'Miles, could you take the kids to Grandma, please?'

'Aww,' James groaned, pouting at his father.

'But we haven't seen Uncle Arthur in _ages_,' Philippa said.

'I promise you can come back and see him soon. Daddy just needs to be alone with him for a little while, okay?'

'Okay.'

Giving Arthur one last squeeze, they both ran off into the back garden again, leaving Arthur, Dom and Miles alone in the kitchen. Arthur stood up and brushed the dust off his trousers before meeting Dom's gaze with his own.

'Is everything all right, Arthur?' his partner asked, forgoing the small talk as usual. 'I wasn't expecting to see you for a few weeks, at least.'

So he _was_ expecting a visit. The admission made Arthur smile despite the look of concern etched on the other men's faces.

'Everything's fine, honestly. I just ... needed to speak to you about something.'

'Something that couldn't wait?'

'No, not really.' Arthur sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. 'I'm not even sure it's something I need to worry about, but I thought I'd come and tell you anyway.'

Dom nodded and waited for his partner to continue, gesturing for them all to take a seat. Arthur obliged and sat back down in the one he had vacated minutes earlier.

'It's ... about Ariadne.'

Both men frowned. Clearly this was not what they had been expecting him to say. It was then that Arthur remembered that Miles had been her tutor at college; that he had recommended her for the position of their Architect. He wondered how he could have voluntarily introduced her to such a dangerous lifestyle with no prior knowledge, but kept that particular thought to himself. It was none of his business.

'What about her?' Dom asked.

'I don't think she's been coping too well since the Inception,' Arthur said, keeping his voice low despite the fact that he knew they would not be overheard.

'How do you know?'

Dom was suspicious. Of course he was. He wasn't stupid. He picked up on the small things just like any good Extractor. And besides, he wasn't just _any_ Extractor – he was the best out there. '_Was' being the operative word,_ Arthur reminded himself.

'I checked in on her earlier today.'

'That was risky,' his partner said, his brow still furrowed. 'You know the rules. You made them up in the first place.'

'I know, I know,' Arthur said, massaging his temple with his right hand. 'I just felt like I should make sure she was okay. She's totally new to this world, Dom. She was thrown in at the deep end, into our first Inception, and then just left to deal with it like the rest of us. I don't think she was fully prepared for the consequences.'

'What makes you say that?'

'Well, let's just say she wasn't her normal cheerful self when I spoke to her earlier. She blew up at me before I even realised what was happening.'

'I wouldn't take it personally,' Miles chipped in. 'The poor girl's probably exhausted, mentally and physically. Add to that she now has to try to go back to her old life, studying normal, everyday architecture at college after creating the most wonderful things in the dreamscape. She probably feels confused, at a loss as to what to do, just like the rest of us were after the first time. You were simply unlucky enough to speak to her during this period and she lashed out at you. Like I said, nothing personal.'

_That's easy for you to say,_ Arthur thought with a wince. They didn't know the half of it ... yet. He would have to tell them, sooner or later. _May as well get it over with._

'I ... wouldn't be so sure of that,' he said, staring at his hands as they rested palms-down on the table. He couldn't bring himself to look Dom in the eye as he spoke. 'There was one thing in particular she seemed most upset about.'

'Which was?' Dom pressed, leaning forward to get a better look at his partner's face.

'Well ... I did a stupid thing, down in the second dream layer. You were off playing the Mr. Charles gambit with Fischer' – he still didn't look at either man, and suddenly he wished Miles wasn't there at all – 'and we were waiting in the lobby of the hotel. The projections were becoming more and more focused on me, so we knew your act was working. Ariadne was worried about them, and to distract her I ... kissed her.'

'You did _what_?'

Arthur ventured a glance at his partner, then looked back down at his hands again, now clenched into fists on the table. Why had he thought this would be a good idea? They didn't need to know. He could have found a way to help Ariadne cope by himself.

'I know, it was stupid of me. I don't even really know why I did it. But she seemed to focus on it when she was shouting at me earlier. She was upset at how we deal with things, by just splitting up and moving on to the next job. I think ... she wants to feel like it meant something more than just an assignment.'

'But that's not how we work,' Dom said slowly.

'You think I don't know that?' Arthur said with a sigh. 'I was explaining how she was going to be paid by Saito, and all the usual post-Extraction processes, and she just flipped.'

'She doesn't want to give it up,' Miles said with a sad shake of his head. 'I knew this would happen. It always does.'

Arthur nodded as the three men lapsed into silence, each one lost in their own thoughts. Arthur was regretting his decision to visit Dom with every tick of the clock hanging on the wall behind him. He wasn't even sure _why_ he had come. What had he expected Dom to say, exactly? More importantly, what _was_ the problem he was trying – and seemingly failing – to divulge? That Ariadne had shouted at him for the first time since they had met two months ago? That he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since watching the taxi drive out of the airport four days ago? The idea was laughable and rather pathetic.

No, he was simply worried about her, that was all. _Someone_ had to make sure she was okay after such an ordeal, particularly since Cobb seemed to have given it no thought himself. He couldn't very well have left her languishing in her own confusion and doubt, knowing himself how hard it was to return to some semblance of normality, particularly after the first job. _And hopefully her last,_ he found himself thinking.

He surprised himself with that one. Where had it come from? He couldn't doubt the huge amount of talent she possessed as an Architect. The layers she had constructed for the Inception had been flawless, even to his critical eye. She had soaked up everything he had to teach her like a sponge, and used that knowledge remarkably well for a novice.

So what then? Why had he found himself hoping she would no longer be a part of their world, would return to the relative humdrum life of a college student? If she did, he would never see her again, that much was certain. Some selfish part of him hoped that wouldn't be the case. He still needed to sort out just what the hell had happened back in that hotel room, after all – though he didn't know why he felt so strongly about it. But more than his desire to be in her company again, he realised what he wanted most of all, right then, was for her to be safe, sheltered from the dangers of their job. She still had no idea just how bad it could be. It was one thing being chased around in a dream, trying not to be killed but knowing that it wasn't the end of the world if you were. You would simply wake up and return to your own life, or try again if the opportunity arose. But being chased halfway around the globe by real men with _real _guns, with bullets that could put an end to your life permanently – _that_ was a different prospect entirely. Cobb knew that better than any of them. So why did he seem so unconcerned? Even Arthur could see how inquisitive Ariadne was; too curious for her own good at times. Once possessed by an idea, a simple notion that something wasn't right, there was no satisfying her. _Just like an Inception,_ he thought with a scowl.

They never should have introduced her to such dangerous possibilities. She was still young, had her whole life, her career as a proper architect in front of her. But she had been lured in by the boundless creativity of the dreamscape, hungry to learn more about it, just as they had been before her. The feeling that anything was possible in a world with very few rules. But it was what awaited her in the real world if she became too deeply involved with their shared dreaming that concerned him. When the rules of reality were disregarded – that was when things went badly wrong.

'Miles, could you give us a minute?' Cobb said suddenly.

Arthur jumped. He had completely forgotten the other two men in the room, and only then realised he had been glaring at his hands the whole time he had been thinking. He watched the older gentleman leave the room with barely-concealed relief. It was another few minutes before he could bring himself to look his partner in the eye.

Cobb seemed to study him for a long time before he spoke again. 'It seems you two were closer than I realised,' he said slowly, betraying no hint of emotion in his voice.

Arthur didn't reply. In truth, he had no idea what to say. _Was_ he close to Ariadne? He wasn't sure. He didn't even know what constituted as 'close' anymore. Sure, they had spent a lot of time together over the weeks, and he had found himself enjoying her company more with each day that passed. She was easy to get along with, an eager student craving the knowledge he could give her. She had made him smile on more than one occasion, often not intentionally, and often without even knowing. But close? That implied an emotional connection. And everyone knew that Arthur didn't do emotions – not on the job.

'Are you really that worried about her?' Cobb asked.

'Aren't _you_?' Arthur shot back.

Cobb shrugged. 'I suppose I hadn't given it much thought. It's selfish, I know. You don't have to give me that look. I usually leave the clearing up to you, remember?' He put his hand up to his face and stroked his chin. 'But now that you ask, no, I'm not that worried. Ariadne's very resilient, as I'm sure you've noticed. She can handle herself as well as any of us. Don't underestimate her just because she lacks our experience.'

'I'm not,' Arthur said quickly, surprised by the defensive edge to his voice. 'You didn't see her, Dom. You weren't there for the week we had to hide out, waiting for the time to run down on the clock. She looked completely lost, like she had no idea what to do next, in the dream and again this afternoon.'

'Well, that's for her to decide, not us. She's got to choose her own path from here. You know how it is.' He paused, looking his partner up and down as though appraising him. 'If she needs our help, she'll ask for it.'

'What, with no way of contacting any of us? Very smart, Dom.'

Arthur wanted to slap himself. Why was he behaving like this? It was so uncharacteristic of him. Judging by the frown on his face, Cobb was having the same thought.

'Arthur, are you all right? This isn't like you at all. First you flout the professional code of conduct and indulge in what can only be described as the pursuit of personal pleasure whilst in the middle of a job – not to mention the hardest one we've ever undertaken, that required our complete concentration – and then you break your own number one rule and go to visit not one, but _two_ members of the team before the allotted time was up. I _know_ you, Arthur. And this lack of professionalism isn't you.'

'You're hardly a shining example yourself, Dom, what with Mal and all,' Arthur bit back.

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about what he was saying. He saw the pained, angry expression that passed over his partner's face and instantly regretted the moment.

'That was low, I'm sorry,' he said quietly. He stood up before Cobb could even think of replying. 'You know what, this was a mistake. I'm not even sure why I'm telling you all of this. I guess I just felt that someone should know.'

He turned to walk down the corridor towards the front door, no clear purpose in his mind except to get as far away from Cobb as he could. He had never been very good at explaining things like this. Job details he had down to a tee, but his feelings, his ... fears, for lack of a better word – those he usually left well alone. He never saw the point in burdening someone else with his own issues.

'You really are worried about her, aren't you?'

Arthur stopped walking, but didn't turn around. 'I suppose I am.'

He heard the sound of a chair scraping as Cobb stood up. He noted the lack of footsteps and was grateful that Cobb hadn't tried to close the distance between them.

'Do you like her?'

This time he turned, his brow furrowed. 'Of course I like her. What kind of question is that? Just because I can't stand the sight of Eames but agreed to work with him – '

'You know what I mean, Arthur.'

Arthur found himself staring at his hands again, and then his feet. Anywhere but Cobb.

'Honestly? I don't know what I feel anymore. I'm not like you, Dom. I can't ... I always keep my business and personal lives separate. What personal life I have, anyway. It's a bad idea to mix the two. I've always said that.'

'That's not what I asked.'

'I know. But it's the best I can do. Because I really don't know what to think at the moment.'

Cobb nodded as he sighed. He understood Arthur's dilemma. He had to, after what he had been through. Nobody knew better than he the risks of bringing your private life into the workspace of the dreams. You were forever treading a fine line between the dreams and reality, trying to juggle your relationships in both without losing yourself and those you cared for along the way. Arthur had never seen the point in trying. It would only end in tears, one way or another.

'Look, if you're that concerned, why not go back and speak to her?' Cobb said, breaking the silence between them.

'I can't. She'll probably throw something at me if I even dare knock on her door again.'

He saw the corners of Cobb's mouth twitch into a small smile at his half-attempt at humour, and couldn't help copying the gesture. It sounded absurd even to his own ears. God only knew what his partner was thinking right then.

'Just go and bring her back here. No, no arguments. Tell her I need to speak to her, say it's urgent. We'll get to the bottom of this together.' Cobb must have seen the panic in Arthur's eyes, for he added, 'I mean why she's so angry, so lost, as you said. We'll make sure she's okay, that she gets back onto her feet as quickly as possible and decides what she wants to do. Even if she chooses to do something we might not necessarily agree with.'

Arthur nodded, knowing what Cobb was getting at. He had realised straight away what Arthur's problem was regarding Ariadne's future. Perhaps he even felt the same way now that the Inception had been achieved and he had given up Extraction for a peaceful life with his family.

'Go on, before it's too late,' Cobb prompted, pointing to the clock. 'Take the car outside. Here's the keys.'

Arthur caught the keys thrown to him and looked at his own watch. It was just after six o'clock. He wasn't sure whether Ariadne would have chosen to stay at the hotel longer than the stipulated four days, but considering she hadn't seemed to have decided what to do next, he was hopeful. _I should have bugged her_. The idea flashed across his mind and made him smile. _Then again, perhaps not._ She really _would_ throw something at him if he had done that to her. Still, it would have made his task a lot easier.

With a nod to Cobb, Arthur hurried out of the front door and jumped into the Ford Estate parked outside.

**A/N: Phew! This is the longest chapter so far in the story, and it's also the one I'm most dubious about. As I mentioned before in my (annoyingly erased) note from Chapter 7, it's the characterisation I'm not sure of. I said then (I think) that I feel that the experiences these characters have been through would necessarily have changed them, even subtly, and most particularly Ariadne who is new to the world of Extraction etc. I figured that, with her up-and-down reactions since escaping Limbo, and Arthur naturally becoming closer to not just her, but all the members of the team during such a traumatic assignment, this wouldn't be completely out of character for him. He's worried about her wellbeing and feels responsible for her continued safety, and the only person he thinks he can turn to about it is Cobb - obviously not Ariadne! I think they're closer than they let on. I mean, they've been through so much over the years, and it is implied in the film that Arthur also knew Mal before she died. He may not have classed them as 'friends' in the same way we would, but I think he would be able to voice his concerns, even on a subject as delicate as this, to Cobb. He has to have someone, after all!**

**It's perfectly fine if people don't agree with my opinion on it, though. That's why there's a positive in not having too much characterisation in the film - we're free to interpret them a little more liberally than characters in books, for example. And that makes my job of writing them that little bit more interesting. :)  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I'm becoming worse at sticking to my own updating rule with every day that passes! Although in my defense, it IS nearly Sunday over here (well, midnight, anyway), so I could pretend it's actually a new day. Next two chapters will be up momentarily, but I shall have to get a move on as I only have two done after that now! Perhaps I should have stuck to one a day instead ... :/**

**As usual, I ... now own Inception! No, of course I don't. But maybe one day ...  
**

**10.**

Ariadne lay on her bed for a long time after showing Arthur the door. She didn't even get up to watch him out of the small window, knowing that her brittle resolve would crumble at the sight of him leaving, most likely for the last time. It was only after he had gone that she realised how much she missed having him there, even just to shout at. His presence had been a comfort, a reminder of the past two months' work and what it had meant, at least to her. But now ... all she had was a bronze chess piece and a few holes in her wrists as evidence of what she had gone through.

Why had he come at all? He had specifically told her mere hours before they had boarded the plane that under no circumstances was she to attempt to visit another member of the team for at least a month after the Inception was completed. It was for all their safety, to make it harder to link them to the job. She had expected a phone call from one of them (though she had never really considered it would be the Point Man, for some reason – perhaps Cobb instead, being the leader of the group and all) telling her what to do next and the specifics of Saito's payment, but that was it. Instead she had been greeted with Arthur's suited figure standing in her doorway, and no explanation of what she was required to do once he left. What had the others done? Returned to their lives pre-Inception? She supposed so. Eames was likely back in a casino in Mombasa, losing his forged chips on Blackjack and Roulette and then making new ones to replace them. Yusuf would have returned to his day job, whatever the hell that had been – something to do with mixing compounds, wasn't it? Saito had probably gone back to Japan to get over the trauma of his time in Limbo and to celebrate the team's achievements. Cobb had gone back to his children, hopefully free of Mal's insidious presence for good – at least the part of her that had plagued his dreams for so long. And Arthur ...

What the hell did Arthur do anyway? He was so closed off to everyone, refusing to speak about himself unless related to the job in some way. Even after spending a whole week shacked up in a hotel room with him, she knew next to nothing about him, his life outside of his work – his background was a complete mystery, though she supposed he had to have one. Maybe top-secret government work that he was unable to talk about with civilians? No, it was likely just Arthur's way – to say as little as possible about himself unless absolutely necessary. He didn't need an excuse not to talk. She had been too focused on the Inception and finding out what Cobb's real issues were, concerned only with how they were going to get out of the dream in one piece, to try to extract any personal information from the Point Man. He had been only too willing to talk about Penrose Steps, paradoxes and what little he knew about Cobb's problem with Mal. And she didn't doubt that he knew almost everything about _her_ – what cafés she liked to eat at, what time her lectures were at college, who she hung out with on the weekends – since he had been practically spying on her, after all. Yet she was hard-pushed to think of a single thing she could point to and say, 'This is Arthur'. To her – to the whole team, except perhaps Cobb – he was a walking mystery clad in Armani suits. And no-one but herself seemed the least bit bothered by it. Why should they be? It was how they rolled, as her ex-boyfriend Matt liked to say – before he 'rolled' off to another country with a rich older woman. To most of them it was simply a job – a pay cheque and nothing more. For Cobb it had been a way back home at last. She had thought Arthur was different, even like her, more interested in the artistic side of the dreamscape, but that was before she had seen the businessman side of him. Maybe he _was_ just like the rest of them, after all. For some reason, the thought made her want to slap him.

She let out a long sigh and finally slid off the bed, ready to start packing away what few things she had. It wasn't much – a couple of outfits and some toiletries she had flung into a tiny suitcase before leaving for Sydney airport. There was no point hanging around L.A. any longer, not when there was nothing there for her. The others had made it quite clear that they intended to follow their own paths from now on, and she had to do the same; however hard it would be. She couldn't imagine not sharing dreams anymore, creating and recreating the most amazing structures and landscapes her mind was capable of. The real world just didn't compare. How could it? It was governed by too many rules – not least of all physics, gravity. Only in dreams could one flip an entire city on its head and watch as cars rolled by where the sky should be.

She shook her head to rid herself of the image. It was no use dwelling on it now. That life was over, done with. She had to forget about it, move on. Go back to the way things were, before Inception, before she had even heard of dream sharing. Before she had met the small group of men who had changed her life forever. She would have to make do without them and their wonderful technology, their fascinating personalities, and ridiculously annoying habits. No longer would she want to bawl at Eames when he made her jump and screw up the model she had been working on; no longer would she have to listen to Yusuf humming another stupidly long song he had picked up in his hometown whilst he mixed chemicals together; no longer would she have to urge Cobb to deal with his damn issues, to tell the others the problems he was having with his dead wife and the potential danger he was putting them all in. And no longer would she have to bear the sight of Arthur looking at her, a patient expression on his face as he explained all the intricacies of the job to her. She wouldn't have to see those absurdly neat suits or his perfect hair, which gave her the urge to run her hand through it just so she could see it messed up for once. She wouldn't have to look into his eyes, hoping to see the same sense of gut-wrenching loss that she was feeling, but in reality sensing only pity shining back at her. He was sorry for her, sympathetic in her wish to continue on this amazing journey, but ultimately knowing that this was the end. He had known it all along. He just hadn't bothered sharing _that_ particular fact with her.

She felt the anger well up inside her again, the uncontrollable urge to throw things, to slap someone so hard her hand stung. But she didn't give into it. Instead, she took a deep breath, clutching her totem in one hand for support, and thankfully nothing more. As much as it hurt, she knew this was real. These last two months – that felt more like a year – had been a nice interlude, almost a holiday away from her normal life. But now it was time to go back, to finish college and move on to a regular job. Like a _normal _person. She had been excited at the prospect before Cobb had shown up after her lecture all those weeks ago – and so she could be again. It would just take time, and that she had in abundance.

And so, with a cursory glance around the place to make sure she hadn't missed anything, she shrugged into her brown leather jacket, picked up her small suitcase, and marched out of the door for the first and last time.


	11. Chapter 11

**EDIT: A/N: Someone helpfully pointed out to me that Chapter 11 had somehow been replaced with Chapter 9 without my knowledge! How strange, and deeply annoying. I apologise to all those who didn't manage to read the proper Chapter 11 before this happened, but here it is now.**

**11.**

Arthur slammed on the brakes, whipped the keys out of the ignition and leapt out of the car, not much caring where he left it. He had a horrible feeling, deep in the pit of his stomach, that he was too late, that she had already left. What then? He shouldn't have walked out so quickly. He should have been more persistent, got to the bottom of whatever it was that was bothering Ariadne. He had an idea of what it could be – numerous things, it seemed – but he needed to hear it from her so they could sort it out. It wasn't right, leaving her to walk away from such an ordeal without so much as a helpful discussion about what she should expect afterwards. How could they expect her to waltz back into her old life after everything they had been through? God only knew he hadn't been able to. Nor any of the others, for that matter. It was how they had become involved in Extraction in the first place. It sucked you in, and before you knew it, that was it. It became your whole life: the thrill of first entering a new dream, the sense of infinite possibility, of ultimate creation. They could play God without having to worry about endangering themselves in the real world. _Well, most of the time,_ he thought grimly. Why did they think Ariadne would be any different? She was already an artist in the real world, bursting with imagination and originality – that much was evident from her college projects. It went without saying that she would be enamoured with the idea of creating a dreamscape from the bottom upwards, able to twist the world into anything she desired. So why had they not seen it before?

He was just about to slam his fist on the button to call the elevator when he heard a familiar coughing sound behind him. He turned to find the same balding receptionist watching him.

'Excuse me, sir,' he said, beckoning Arthur over with a look. 'I should tell you that the young lady is no longer here.'

'Shit,' Arthur muttered under his breath. 'Do you know where she went? How long ago did she leave?'

'About half an hour ago, I believe. I noted the time as she signed out. She had a suitcase with her, so perhaps you should try the airport?'

Of course. _She's going back to Paris, after all._ Arthur thanked the man and hurried back out of the hotel. He could see a couple of people eyeing his haphazard parking with some distaste and ignored their 'tut' of disapproval as he jumped back in and sped off towards LAX.

If only he knew when the next flight was. He would have called Cobb, but there was no point. Arthur would arrive at the airport faster than it took his ex-partner to look up the next flight to Paris from L.A. Glancing at the clock, he pushed down harder on the accelerator pedal and hoped beyond anything that he would make it in time. He couldn't explain why, but he had a feeling that something terrible would happen if he didn't manage to get to her before the flight took off. He tried to dismiss it, to tell himself that he was being foolish, but it kept creeping up on him. The annoying thing was, his instincts had a habit of being right more often than not. That was what worried him the most.

Once again ignoring the 'No Parking' signs, Arthur jumped out of the car, silently vowing to replace Cobb's car should it be towed away, and jostled through the crowds of people and luggage until he was standing in front of the Departures screen. It only took a brief scan before one line jumped out at him: TA5462 – Paris – 21.20. He checked his watch again: 18.45. He still had time. Ascertaining which check-in desk to head to, he set off towards the correct zone, scanning the face of every brunette he came across. She wouldn't be too hard to spot, not to his trained eye.

And indeed, she wasn't. Even if she hadn't been half-turned in his direction, he would have spotted that scarf anywhere. She was standing in a line, her suitcase in one hand, the other fiddling with the red scarf tied loosely around her neck. He doubted she even realised what she was doing, in much the same way that he played with the opening of his right trouser pocket, sometimes fingering the red die that nestled there, whenever he was deep in thought. It was a habit, ingrained over years of absent-minded practice, and one neither would be able to drop any time soon.

Steeling himself for the inevitable, he strode over to where she was standing and tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up, shock written all over her face. Her eyes darted around to see who was watching them, before settling back on his own.

'What are you doing here?' she whispered, her cheeks stained a light pink. _She's still angry._ 'Isn't it too 'dangerous'?'

Arthur ignored the obvious sarcasm in her words and leant closer to her. 'I have to talk to you,' he said, following her example and keeping his voice low. 'I wanted to make sure you were all right.'

She gave him a withering look. 'I appreciate the concern,' she said, sounding anything but appreciative, 'but I'm fine, thank you. I can take care of my own life from here.'

'Ariadne, please, just – come and have a coffee with me? Just one, and if you still don't like what I have to say then you can go, wherever you want. I won't try to follow you.'

'What do you have to say that I haven't heard before?' she demanded. 'If it's about the job, save it. I'm through with it.'

'It's not.' She stared at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. 'Well, okay, I suppose it is. But it's not what you think. Just, please, hear me out.'

Ariadne folded her arms across her chest and gave a loud sigh. 'Do you know how long I've been standing here waiting to check this damn bag in? I've had people trying to push in pretending they know me, I've had incompetent staff trying to tell me I'm in the wrong queue when it clearly says 'Paris' for twenty past nine on the screens, along with my flight number. I'm not about to lose my place to – '

Arthur didn't wait to hear the rest of her tirade. He grabbed the suitcase in his right hand and one of her hands in his left and fairly dragged her toward the small coffee bar at the other end of the building. He was acutely aware of the people staring at them as Ariadne voiced her protests the entire way, but for once he didn't care. They weren't projections; they wouldn't attack if he did anything out of the ordinary. Like most others in a big city, they would watch and shake their heads and 'tut' along with everyone else, but – God forbid – never intervene.

'Arthur, you can't – what the hell are you doing? I told you I don't want to talk.'

She wrenched her hand from his as he stopped at the counter. He could feel her eyes boring a hole into the back of his head as he looked up at the menu, pretending to contemplate what to have. In reality, he was trying to figure out exactly what he was going to say to her, how he was going to convince her to abandon her flight and return to Cobb's house. He had to fight not to scoff at himself. Years of working in Extraction, of persuading marks that they could trust him, that the dream was in fact reality, and now he was struggling to win Ariadne over to his point of view. Who knew that real life could be more challenging than his work?

'I'll have a cappuccino, please,' he said to the young woman behind the counter.

She stared at him as though unsure whether to process his request, before flicking her gaze over to Ariadne. Arthur looked at her over his shoulder.

'What would you like?'

He could sense her fighting against some inner impulse, whether to hit him, flee or simply to say nothing, he couldn't tell. She clenched her jaw and said 'latté' through gritted teeth, tacking a 'please' on the end for good measure. He reminded himself that now was not the time to smile at her as he noted her good manners despite the fact that she was still glaring at him. _If looks could kill ..._

'And a latté, thank you,' he said to the woman, who was already busy concocting the two drinks.

Arthur handed over the correct change, nodded his thanks, and gestured for Ariadne to join him at the nearest empty table. She did so, but not before huffing her disapproval at the idea. He watched as she poured an ungodly amount of sugar into the cup and stirred vigorously enough to earn yet more stares from their fellow drinkers. Arthur let her take her frustration out on the spoon before sipping his own drink and waiting for her to meet his eye.

'Right, now I've got you here – '

'You know, I've half a mind to get up and leave right now,' Ariadne interrupted as she slammed the small piece of cutlery onto the table. 'You have no right to just barge in here and drag me away from a queue I've spent the better part of forty minutes standing in. I mean, what the hell are you doing here anyway? Why walk out of the hotel just to return three hours later and embarrass me in front of a whole airport full of people?'

Arthur sighed, set down his cup and pressed the tips of his fingers together as his elbows rested on the table. He also refrained from pointing out that, in actual fact, _she _had been the one to throw _him _out of her hotel room. He had a feeling that highlighting her flaws would not help his case much.

'Has anyone ever told you, you ask too many questions?'

Ariadne stared at him, stone-faced. 'Once or twice. The last person was Cobb not so many weeks ago. But don't you think you owe me an explanation, at the very least? You're usually so fond of answering questions and spouting information at will. Why stop now?'

'Touché.' Arthur paused, readying his speech, the one that would hopefully persuade her to alter her not-too-distant future and agree to come back with him. 'Okay, here's the deal. Cobb wants to see you, and – '

'Cobb? Why?'

'Ariadne, this will be over much quicker if you would let me finish before bombarding me with questions.'

He hoped she could detect the slight humour in his voice. He didn't want to come across too harshly, after all. It would do him no favours. Ariadne nodded and motioned for him to continue.

'As I was saying, Cobb wants to see you, and he's asked me to take you back to his house – just for a little while, so he can talk to you. I think he needs to discuss what happens next with you. Now before you say anything, I know, this should all have been sorted before we boarded that plane in Sydney. But things moved along so fast that I think everyone neglected to tell you certain details. For that, I'm sorry. It was my responsibility to ensure that each one of us had a plan after we finished the job. The others are experienced enough to know what to do, and I suppose we got a little complacent. We forget how disorienting it can be, trying to slip back into reality after your first mission, particularly one as intense as this.'

He stopped, unsure what to say next. He took in Ariadne's thoughtful expression and decided that it was the best he could hope for at that stage. At least she hadn't told him where to shove it and stormed off. _Yet._

'But what if I've already decided what I want to do? I mean, I've booked my ticket back to Paris. I was ready to get on that plane and forget everything that's happened until you showed up.'

'But were you?' Arthur asked. He saw her flinch at his words, but graciously avoided pointing it out. 'If you really know what you want to do now, then far be it from me to stop you. I'm just offering you an alternative. You can leave now, and that'll be it. You can come back with me and listen to what Cobb and I have to say, and then still go back to Paris. It's your choice. But we need to be sure that you're okay with everything before we let you disappear. It's a dangerous world, as I'm sure you've noticed. We can't let you go worried that you'll have a sudden breakdown, or spill our secrets to the first person who asks where you've been the past two months.'

The cold, hard look returned to Ariadne's face as he finished. He knew he had said the wrong thing – but at the same time, it needed to be said.

'So you don't trust me not to blab and turn you all in, is that it?' she asked, her eyes narrowed as she took another sip of her coffee.

'It's not about trust, Ariadne. It's about knowing how fragile you are right now, exhausted and more than likely confused as hell after what we just went through. There's no shame in that. We all went through it once. But you get used to it after a while, and unfortunately you haven't been in the game long enough to become accustomed to it.'

They sat in silence for a while as they finished their drinks, Arthur never taking his eyes off the young lady in front of him. He was trying to gauge her emotions, as he had been trained to do so many times, picking up on the subtle changes in her body language, facial expression, even the dilation of her pupils. It had become second nature to him to read other people like open books; that way he was prepared for whatever they had in mind to do next, be it run or whip out a gun to shoot him with. He prided himself on this ability – he was, after all, the best in his field. Details were his thing. Even Eames had grudgingly admitted his unparalleled talent for the job.

So it stunned him when Ariadne suddenly stared straight into his eyes with a mixture of emotions playing out on her face all at once, making it impossible for him to discern what she was feeling.

'Why are you here?' she asked, her gaze never faltering as she looked at him.

'What?'

'Why are you here?' she repeated.

Arthur frowned at her, for once disarmed enough to stumble over his words. 'What kind of – Ariadne, I just explained it all to you. Were you even listening?'

'I heard everything you said. But that still doesn't answer my question. Why are you here, now, with me?'

Arthur was at a loss to figure out just what she was asking. Hadn't he given her his reasons already? Was that not enough? He was usually so good at explanations, never leaving out an important detail, but not bombarding the subject with too much information at once. It was detrimental to their understanding if they tried to take everything on board at the same time. Had he not been clear enough, not told her enough?

'I told you. It's my job to make sure that everyone's safe after a mission, that they know exactly what they're going to do next so that there are no slip-ups. I messed up this time and I'm trying to make amends. What more do you need to know?'

Ariadne fingered the rim of her empty mug, gazing at the lingering bits of froth at the bottom. Then, without a word, she stood up and grabbed her handbag. Arthur jumped out of his seat and grasped her wrist before she could move.

'No, please, don't leave. I need you to come back with me.'

He hated that he sounded so desperate, but it was too late to take it back now. He had never failed in his duties before – and this could be the second time on the same job. First Fischer's damn training, and now Ariadne. He wasn't sure he could handle it.

Again her eyebrows were raised. 'I thought I had a choice in the matter?' She shook her head. 'I _will_ come with you, but not because I have to. Not because you have some stupid notion that you have to protect everyone all the time. And certainly _not_ because I believe it's your 'job' to do so. But because I want to. I want to see Cobb again, to make sure that he's got everything he fought so hard for. I want to talk to you both about ... well, just about everything.' She put her hand on his and slid it from her wrist, but not before giving it a light squeeze – or was he just imagining that? 'But first, I need to go to the loo, if that's okay with you.'

He nearly laughed with relief as he watched her walk away towards the women's toilets, not quite believing his luck. _No, there's no such thing,_ he told himself. _We make our own luck in this world. In _both_ worlds._ As if to remind himself of the truth in those words, he put his hand into his pocket and fingered the small plastic cube there, the symbol of his utter confidence in himself and his own reality. That, at least, would never change.

**A/N: I'm sure you're all sick of these notes by now, so I'll keep it short. I hope you're all still enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it, and can promise a lot more excitement/drama in the subsequent chapters. The turning point will be the next one, but I'm afraid I have to be mean and leave that until tomorrow at the earliest. I've been updating far too quickly for my own good and only have two more chapters to submit after this one, so I need to stop updating and actually carry on writing! I still can't believe the number of hits etc. I've had on this story in so few days. Quite astounding. I humbly thank you all.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Just a quick foreword here. As I've mentioned in my now-replaced Chapter 11, someone kindly alerted me to the fact that it had somehow been replaced with a carbon copy of Chapter 9 (I did try to change it late last night when I noticed a mistake in the text, so perhaps my tired brain wasn't functioning as it usually does!), so I apologise to all those who have not yet read the real Chapter 11. It's back up now (assuming it worked!), so to everyone who didn't manage to read it yesterday - well, what are you waiting for? :P  
**

**I originally planned on putting this up tonight rather than this morning, but it was 7.30am when, lying in bed, I happened to check my emails on my phone and noticed the review pointing out the error. Of course, being the pedant that I am, I couldn't rest after that! So blame the 5 or so hours sleep I've had if things are still wrong. -.-  
**

**12.**

Arthur had been sitting alone for the better part of ten minutes, wondering just how long it took for one woman to go the toilet, when he felt someone brush against him. His head snapped up in time to see a man in a dark suit jog past, briefcase in hand, muttering a rushed apology. Arthur was about to turn away when he caught sight of something small and dark on the floor beside his foot.

'Excuse me, sir, I think you dropped something!' he called out, stooping to pick the object up.

It was too late. The man was out of sight, clearly oblivious to his loss. Arthur contemplated handing it in to Lost Property, but not before Ariadne returned. _Where the hell is she, anyway?_ He stood up, his eyes scanning the area, looking for the telltale hint of red that would draw his attention, but there was no sign of her. He had a vague notion that he had already left Cobb's car unattended – illegally, mind – for too long, when the feeling of dread that had been niggling him all afternoon suddenly hit him full force. He felt winded, as though all the breath had been knocked out of him as his mind stumbled over the possibilities.

Nobody took _this_ long going to the bathroom. He looked down at his hands and realised that he was still gripping the small nylon bag that the man had dropped. His hand trembling slightly, he pulled the drawstring open and reached inside.

He didn't even need to look to know what he was holding. The material was soft beneath his fingers, and just a hint of musk drifted up from inside. But he had to be sure.

He felt his heart skip a beat as he looked down at the red piece of cloth now scrunched up in his clenched fist.

For the first time since before he could remember, Arthur didn't know what to do. His heart was pounding in his chest, in his throat and ears, drowning out every other sound around him; his vision tunnelled, focused on the small piece of fabric still clutched in his hand, his fingers tingling under its touch. He could feel his legs beginning to tremble beneath him, his knees weakening as he stood rooted to the spot, trying to process what it could mean.

Ariadne had been taken. That much was evident. But by whom? The man in the dark suit? He obviously had something to do with it. Arthur closed his eyes and tried to picture him, once more grateful for his vivid memory. He would certainly recognise him again, if he ever saw him. That was something, at least.

Now he just needed some help. _Dom._ It was his only choice. He hated the thought of dragging him into it, just when he was settling down with his kids, but what else could he do? He would simply ask for advice, nothing more.

His mind made up, he grabbed Ariadne's suitcase and hurried out of the airport as fast as his quivering legs would carry him.

Cobb's car was still outside. Arthur noticed a traffic warden peering at it as he edged closer, but he was too quick. Opening the back door, he flung the suitcase onto the seat before jumping in the front and peeling off, the warden's protests falling on deaf ears.

Arthur hardly took his foot off the accelerator until he pulled up outside Cobb's house fifteen minutes later, the brakes squealing as he slammed to a stop. He wasted no time as he sprinted up the garden path and pummelled on the wooden door.

'All right, all right, I'm coming,' he heard Miles' voice call out from the other side. 'There's no need to break the bloody door – Arthur? What's wrong?'

Arthur was too focused to feel the sense of déjà vu that hit him. He brushed past the older man and stormed into the house, all the while calling Cobb's name.

'He's in the garden still,' Miles shouted, hurrying to catch up with him. 'What on earth's happened?'

'It's Ariadne,' Arthur said shortly.

'What about Ariadne?'

Cobb, apparently having heard the commotion, was now standing just inside the back door, frowning at his partner. Arthur knew he didn't need to explain – Dom had already gauged the gravity of the situation.

'Miles.'

'I know, I've got the kids,' the professor said, glancing at Arthur before walking out into the garden and shutting the door behind him.

'What's happened?' Dom asked. 'Did you find her?'

'Yes, at the airport. She was ready to board a plane back to Paris.'

'And? You let her go?'

'No, no, I didn't.' Arthur drew a shaky breath and ran his fingers through his hair. 'Someone got to her. I have no idea who they were, but they left this for me.'

He threw the small black bag over to Dom, who caught it and looked inside. Arthur thought he saw the colour drain from his partner's face as he stared down at the red scarf.

'What the hell do we do?' he said, realising that his voice sounded anything but calm, as it usually did. 'I managed to get a glimpse of one of them, but I don't have a clue who he was or who he works for.'

'Fischer,' Dom muttered, shoving the scarf into the bag and handing it back to Arthur.

'But how? There's no way he could figure out what we did.'

'It's the only explanation. Who else would follow you there and take her?'

'Maybe they were already waiting at the airport for her. Maybe it had nothing to do with me.'

He clung to that belief. He didn't think he could bear the thought that he had been the reason for her capture, that he had failed in his duty to protect her. Hadn't he promised not to let anyone harm her? What would she think of him now?

Dom apparently sensed his discomfort, for he walked over and placed his hand on the Point Man's shoulder. 'Arthur, this is no time to beat yourself up. You're not to blame, all right? You couldn't have known what would happen.'

'But – it's my job – to make sure everyone's safe after a mission. And I've failed. I've failed her, Dom. Maybe they wouldn't have taken her if I'd have just let her get on that damn plane.'

'You can't know that. In fact, she'd probably be worse off if you'd have let her go. She'd be all the way over in France and we wouldn't be able to help her.'

Arthur looked up at him, processing his words, then shook his head. 'Dom, I can't let you do this. You just got your family back, for Christ's sake.'

'Right now, you don't have a choice. We'll call Eames and get him to help, too. I think we're going to need it.'

Arthur opened his mouth to protest again, but was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing on the kitchen table. Both men stared at it for a few moments before Dom answered.

'Hello? Yes, this is he.' Arthur strained to hear the voice on the other end of the line, with no luck. 'I'm listening.'

Cobb's expression dropped as the conversation continued. With a quick look at Arthur, he put his finger to his mouth and pressed the speakerphone button on the handset.

'Now, before you say anything, let me tell you this: I _know_ you had something to do with Robert's recent rash decision to break up the empire.'

Arthur frowned as he listened to the man speaking on the other end of the phone. _Browning? What the hell is he doing calling Cobb?_ Not to mention how on earth he got hold of the phone number in the first place.

'I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Browning,' Dom said, his voice even.

'Don't play the fool with me, son,' Browning snapped. 'You may be under the impression that you're the best Extractors in the world, but that doesn't mean you can't be found out every once in a while.' Arthur shared a quick look with Cobb before returning his attention to the phone. 'I have some _very_ skilled men of my own who have identified you as the culprits through various – shall we say – _methods_.'

'We're supposed to take your word for this? And do what, exactly?'

'Oh, no, you don't have to take _my_ word,' Browning said with a dark chuckle. 'I've spoken to your friends at Cobol Engineering who are simply _dying_ to see you again. Not to mention a couple of associates of yours who, you will agree, are very trustworthy. It was Mr. Thompson here – or should I say, Mr. Eames? – who led us right to the young lady you call your Architect.'

Arthur felt all the tension, all the guilt he was trying so hard not to focus on well up inside of him, seeming to lodge somewhere in the region of his throat. His hands trembled as he clenched them into tight balls and slammed them down onto the table.

'That fucking asshole,' he roared, oblivious to the blood he was drawing from his own palms as his nails dug into the flesh. 'I swear, I'll ring his fucking neck if I ever see him again.'

'Arthur, calm down!' Cobb snapped. 'This isn't helping.'

'Ah, so you _do_ have a friend with you. No doubt the same gentleman my men tipped off at the airport. I hope you liked our parting gift. Arthur, was it? Yes, that would explain her dreams. Quite the knight, aren't we? You're proving a most difficult obstacle, so I'm told.'

'What the fuck are you talking about?' Arthur growled, ignoring the warning glare Cobb sent him. 'If you hurt her – '

'Please, we're not barbarians,' Browning drawled, sounding for all the world as though he were bored with Arthur's outbursts. 'We're just trying to extract the desired secrets from them, just as you would yourselves. And I wouldn't blame your other colleague, either. It's not like he willingly parted with the information, if you understand my meaning.'

'We understand perfectly,' Cobb muttered, grasping Arthur's shoulder to stop him from losing control again. 'So what is it you want from us?'

'Good, now we get to business,' Browning said, a note of triumph in his voice. Arthur gripped the back of the chair in front of him, his knuckles turning white with the effort. 'It's quite simple, really. I want you to go back into Robert's mind and erase whatever damage you've done performing that Inception of yours. Oh yes, I know all about _that_ particular field and exactly what it entails.'

'We still haven't admitted that we were in any way involved with your godson's decision to split apart his business empire. In fact, I didn't even know about it until you told us.'

'I told you, Mr. Cobb, not to play games with me. Or have you forgotten that I currently hold two of your colleagues hostage right now – for want of a better word? One phone call from me and I can have them killed – or worse.' The threat in his words was unmistakable; Arthur closed his eyes against the numerous possibilities – each one worse than death itself – that were presenting themselves to his addled mind. 'Now, as I was saying, I want you to reverse that Inception. If necessary, I want you to perform another one convincing him that breaking up the business is the worst possible thing he could do. My men from Cobol – did I mention they were the ones who provided Robert with his training in the first place? Very handy, they are. And _very_ eager to meet with you both again after your last assignment went awry. I believe they're tracking Mr. Saito down as I speak. You see, it wasn't hard to join the dots together, Mr. Cobb. You all disappear after Cobol hire you to extract certain business information from Mr. Saito – who just _happens_ to be the biggest rival to our company's planned dominance of the energy market – and then my godson, for no apparent reason, decides to do the unthinkable and destroy all his father before him worked so hard to achieve. And then, who should pop back up but a certain Japanese businessman, hosting various parties celebrating who-knows-what because he 'felt like it'. No, Mr. Cobb, we're not stupid.'

Arthur decided the man talked too much for his own good. It was as though he was enjoying spelling out the details of their own misery to them, revelling in his accomplishment.

'And what do you stand to gain from all of this?' Cobb asked after a moment of silence. Arthur envied his composure right then – his own appeared to have deserted him for once. 'How do you even know we can do what you're asking? As far as I'm aware, there's no way to reverse an Inception. If that's even what has been performed on Robert Fischer.'

'Mr. Cobb, I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully. I have dedicated my entire life to this business. I've sacrificed my own family, neglected my own children, in order to make it succeed. We are _this_ close to achieving our ultimate goal – total energy dominance. And I'll be damned if I'll let some petty thieves ruin all that we've worked for over the years. I don't care how you do it, but you _will_ make Robert change his mind. Otherwise ... well, I don't need to tell you what could happen. It's funny – I always thought dreams were harmless little things that warranted no particular attention. But that was before I found out how important they were to our wellbeing. I'm sure you don't want to see your friends become soulless vegetables, do you?'

Arthur clenched his jaw tight and bit his tongue against the diatribe that threatened to burst from him at any moment. _Get a grip! _he urged himself, trying desperately to tone out the sound of Browning's disgusting voice. _Getting angry at him won't help anyone._

'Oh, and just in case that wasn't enough to tempt you, I have one other condition before I hang up and leave you to decide. If you _don't_ accept my terms – all of them, mind – I make one phone call to the F.B.I. and they'll be knocking on your door faster than you can take a shit on a toilet. I hear your pretty little wife's murderer was never caught. Isn't that right, Mr. Cobb?'

Arthur listened as Dom's breath hitched in his throat. He was staring at the phone as though it were a bomb wired to explode at any second.

'You're a lowlife scumbag,' Arthur heard himself spit out.

'Such hypocrisy from one who breaks the law for a living,' Browning retorted. 'You'll forgive me for taking your words with a pinch of salt.' He paused, allowing the two men to take in everything he had said – if that was even possible. 'I'll give you one hour, and then I shall call back to get your answer. Of course, I'm expecting nothing less than your full cooperation. Otherwise I shall not be held accountable for whatever may happen to your British friend and that charming young lady of yours. Goodbye, Mr. Cobb.'

The phone went dead, leaving Arthur and Dom standing in complete silence. The only thought in Arthur's head right then was a simple one: what the hell were they going to do now?

**Yet another A/N!: So! I realise this is a big departure in terms of action from the previous chapters, but I hope you like it nonetheless. Did I not say there would be a turning point in this one? Hmm, I'm sure I did. Well, anyway - let me know what you think, and I'll have the next chapter up either tonight when I get back from cricket, or, if I haven't written more than Chapter 13, then tomorrow. Toodle-pip from me!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Me again! Just to say I'm glad you enjoyed the twist in the story and didn't feel it was too incongruous with what had happened before. Here's the continuation, from a slightly different perspective this time. Depending on the number of chapters I can get done today, I may put the next one up later as well.**

**13.**

Peter Browning put the phone onto the receiver and settled back into the limousine's plush leather seating. He stretched out his legs, picked up his glass of champagne and smiled at no-one in particular. He had them now. There was no way they could refuse his terms – not if they wanted to see their colleagues again, with their minds intact. He silently thanked whatever business deity had smiled down on him earlier that day. Who would have thought that, mere hours after Robert had announced his momentous decision to split up the Fischer empire, he would be sipping the finest cava money could buy with an employee of a company he had barely even heard of? He grinned at the Cobol man sitting opposite him and lifted his glass, both in celebration and recognition.

'So, everything is in motion,' the blonde man said, taking a sip of his own drink. 'I look forward to it. It goes without saying that my boss was less than pleased with Cobb's last job.'

'I'm not surprised,' Browning replied. 'But tell me – what exactly _are_ you trying to do to them?'

He gestured to the two slumbering figures in the seats further down the limousine, flanked by four men in dark suits – two of whom were also apparently sound asleep. He listened to the gentle whir and hiss of the small machine resting on the table between them, curious as to what the participants were getting up to, exactly. 'Shared dreaming', so the man opposite him had said. He had immediately pictured all kinds of bizarre and abstract images; upside-down worlds, clichéd castles in the sky and the like. But that had been before the Extractor, as he called himself, had explained it in detail. A whole new set of possibilities had opened up before his eyes, and he wondered how the company had never heard of such a field before. _Probably because of Maurice's ridiculous sense of integrity,_ he thought with a grimace. Fischer Senior always had been too traditional for his liking. He had hoped Robert would take a more _liberal_ view of things, had tried to mould him in his own image from a young age in his capacity as his trustworthy godfather, but so far the results had been patchy at best. Despite his godson's strained relationship with his father, he still retained his unwavering sense of honour and morality: the two things Browning despised most in businessmen. How on God's green Earth Maurice had ever managed to build up such a formidable empire, he would never know. But he owed his very livelihood to its continued success – and existence.

He had almost forgotten about his question for the Extractor until the blonde man finally spoke again, his voice fantastically deep in spite of his childlike features. 'We're delving into their minds – their subconscious – in order to extract the information you require.'

'How they managed to persuade Robert to break up the business?'

'Exactly. Inception is a concept known to all Extractors, but no-one has ever heard of it being pulled off before. Particularly not on such an impressive scale. My boss wants to know precisely how they did it. It would be an invaluable tool in the already remarkable arsenal of an Extractor.'

'Mm hm.'

Browning was interested in what the man had to say – he really was – but his attention had been drawn once again to the sleeping figures behind him. He gazed over the blonde's shoulder as one by one his companions stirred and sat up straight.

'It's no good,' one of them said, craning his neck to look at his superior. 'We can't get close enough to them to make it work. _He_ keeps popping up and shooting us all in the head before we can even target him.'

The Cobol man sighed and rolled his eyes. 'Then try the Brit by himself again. It's got to be her. She's blocking our efforts somehow.'

'But we already did him. No luck there, either. He's too experienced to fall for anything we throw at him.'

The blonde clenched his gloved left hand and slapped the leather seat beside his leg. 'Then try again, you idiots! I don't care how 'experienced' they are. We _will_ not accept failure this time. So unless you all want to wind up in Limbo, I suggest you get your asses back in that fucking dream and get me some goddamn results!'

Browning watched as the four men exchanged nervous glances with one another before busying themselves with the little machine again. He couldn't stop the smirk that contorted his lips at the sight of them squirming under his companion's furious glare. _He'd make a fine business partner,_ he mused. _Straight-to-the-point, no-nonsense kind of guy. Just what I like to see._

'Mr. Denley, was it?' The blonde turned to look at Browning, nostrils flared and lips pursed. 'I think you and I will make a fine team.'

He picked up the half-empty bottle of champagne and topped up both glasses, feeling considerably more contented than he had done in hours.


	14. Chapter 14

**14.**

Arthur sat at the kitchen table, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands and trying to wrap his mind around everything that had happened within the last hour. They had never been caught before. Even after failing Saito's job and going on the run from Cobol, they had been confident in their ability to melt back into the anonymity of the world's bustling population. Aliases, hideouts, friends in high places – they had them all. Then again, they didn't usually fail a job like Saito's; nor did they work with a team quite so large. They had always done things as a pair, until Cobb's problem with Mal had become so bad they had to bring an Architect on board. But using _six_ people for a job, even one as sizeable and complicated as Fischer's Inception, had been their undoing. _Too many liabilities. Too many ways of getting caught out._ The idea crossed his mind, not for the first time since finishing the job, that they should never have become involved with it. It wasn't just about completing the Inception, nor simply having everyone survive it. As Point Man, he knew how much farther the hard work extended after the job. And this time, they had failed. _Big time._

He looked up at the family photo on the wall again, memorising the faces of Dom's beautiful children. Seeing their delighted expressions filled him with some optimism – Cobb wouldn't have been able to return to them without doing the Inception, so that was a plus, surely? But this feeling was quashed almost immediately by the immense guilt and anger that was eating away at him, slowly corroding his rational, aloof way of thinking. Days after Dom had been reunited with what was left of his family, he was going to have to leave again, walking headlong into the most dangerous situation Arthur had ever encountered. He wondered how Limbo would compare to the living hell they would surely find once they met with Browning. Because this was real life, this was _reality_, not a dream world that they could wake up from simply by shooting themselves or waiting for the time to run out. There was no escaping _this_ world.

Arthur sighed as Dom walked back into the kitchen, a grim expression on his now-pale face. He took a seat opposite his partner and shook his head.

'I take it Miles wasn't happy with your suggestion,' Arthur said.

'He knows it's for the best. I can't risk leaving them here for Browning's men to find and use against me. If they got hold of my phone number, they can sure as hell get my address.'

Arthur nodded, but glanced away when he caught sight of the moisture in his partner's eyes. He took to staring at his hands once more and bit his bottom lip, so hard that small blood droplets formed. The metallic taste only served as another reminder of their mortality in this world.

'Dom, I'm so sorry,' he breathed, moving his hands under the table to hide the faint tremble. 'This is all my fault. I should have been more alert at the airport. I should have just dragged her out of there instead of sitting down for a damn coffee and talking it over with her. I mean, why take her? Why not me?'

Dom looked over at him, and Arthur was surprised to find pity in his eyes. It was the last thing he was expecting right then.

'She's an easier target than you, Arthur. And they probably wanted you to come back and tell me what happened.' He shook his head and sighed. 'I've already told you, you're not to blame. They would have got to her eventually. And if not Ariadne, then someone else. They already had Eames by the sounds of it. Maybe – ' He took a deep breath, steeling himself for his next words. ' – maybe they would have taken the kids instead if they hadn't managed to get one of the team. As bad as it is right now, I'm at least grateful that it's not them.'

Arthur nodded again, seeing the sense in Cobb's words, though it did nothing to alleviate his guilt. 'So ... what do we do?'

Dom said nothing. They had both been waiting for the question – the dreaded question that neither wanted to ask. What _could_ they do? Their choices were limited, to say the least. Was there any way they could refuse Browning's terms? Arthur had gone over every possibility and drawn a blank. He was sure Cobb had done the same in his mind, too.

'There's not a lot we _can_ do,' Dom replied. 'If we don't accept he'll kill them both in the dream and send them to Limbo. And I'll wind up in jail for Mal's – '

He broke off, his eyes fixed on a point on the wooden table. Arthur watched as he gripped his hands together, his knuckles turning white. The action reminded him of his own hands and he looked down at his palms, shocked at the angry welts that had appeared there. He didn't remember feeling any pain when his nails had cut into the flesh.

They sat for a while in silence, each man lost in his own dismal thoughts, until the phone finally rang again. Arthur glared at it, wanting nothing more than to hurl it out of the window. It was lucky, then, that Dom was the one to answer. He pressed the speakerphone button once more, treating the room to the sound of Browning's gruff voice.

'So gentlemen, have you decided yet? I don't need to remind you what the stakes are if you refuse me.'

'We don't exactly have a choice in the matter,' Dom muttered.

'I'm glad you agree, Mr. Cobb.' Arthur could almost hear the smirk in Browning's voice; it made him feel sick. 'There's a warehouse just off one of the roads in Manhattan Beach. My men will be waiting for you outside. You won't miss them. I'll expect you here within the hour.'

The phone went dead before either man could say a word. Arthur heaved a sigh and stood up; Dom followed suit.

'I guess this is it,' Dom said. He glanced out of the window into the garden where Miles was playing with the two children, before turning and heading towards the front door. 'Come on, we should get going.'

Arthur grabbed his arm as he passed. 'You can't leave without saying goodbye. They deserve that, at the very least.'

'Arthur, I can't – I can't do it again. I can't walk away from them, seeing the expression on their faces as I tell them I have to abandon them. I can't do it.'

'Don't do something you'll regret later,' Arthur said, trying to load his words with as much emphasis as possible, but without voicing the harsh truth that neither wanted to hear. 'Just go and speak to them. Tell them we have to go away for a few days, but we'll be back soon.'

'You want me to lie to my own kids?'

'It's got to be better than saying nothing at all.'

Dom rubbed his forehead, then pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, clearly considering Arthur's words. After a few moments he nodded and hurried out into the garden. Arthur watched from the kitchen as he knelt down beside the two children. He couldn't hear what was being said, but the reaction of the kids was enough. They both started to cry, clinging to their father as he tried to calm them down. Dom looked up at Miles, but the old man shook his head and turned away. Arthur didn't need to hear the words to know what it meant: Miles didn't approve of their decision to go. He didn't want Dom to put himself in danger again after finally getting his family back, and Arthur couldn't help but agree. Despite being Ariadne's tutor, Miles was a family man. He put his grandchildren before any others, even himself. Even his favourite student. He didn't want to do anything that would upset those kids further, even if it meant keeping Dom behind whilst Arthur went off to sort out the mess by himself. _But it's Dom they want,_ Arthur thought bitterly. _ He's the one who took the Cobol job on. He's the one they blame for it going wrong. _But they could settle for having Arthur by himself, couldn't they? He could make them accept, somehow.

Arthur was on the verge of running out of the house and leaving Dom behind when his partner finally stood up and returned to the kitchen. He did nothing to disguise the tears that had been streaming down his face.

'Come on, let's go,' he said, his voice hoarse.

'Dom, if you want to stay ... '

'You know I can't, Arthur. I can't let you go alone. I doubt they'd accept you turning up by yourself, anyway.'

Arthur knew he was right, but it still didn't make him feel any better about the situation. With one last look out at the garden, at Miles' grim expression, he followed Dom out of the house and into the car. Arthur jumped into the driver's seat without any protests from his partner. He seemed exhausted, too weary to argue with the Point Man. _And this is just the start,_ Arthur thought as he gripped the steering wheel and peeled away from the curb. Things were going to get a lot worse from here on out.


	15. Chapter 15

**15.**

They had been driving for nearly fifteen minutes when Cobb suddenly sat up in his seat and looked out of the window. Arthur saw him squinting at the road signs out of the corner of his eye.

'I think you're going in the wrong direction,' Dom said, looking at his partner. 'We just missed the turn off for Manhattan Beach.'

'I know.'

'Arthur what – where the hell are you going? We've got to be there within the hour or who knows what that twisted fuck will do to them.'

'And we will be,' Arthur replied calmly. 'I'm just taking a quick detour first.'

He focused his gaze on the road ahead, avoiding his partner's enquiring eyes. What he had in mind wouldn't take long at all. It was just something he needed to be sure of before they found out exactly what awaited them in Browning's warehouse.

Cobb didn't have to wait long to discover their destination. Arthur noted the bemused frown on his face as he parked the car – legally this time – and stepped out onto the pavement.

'And we're at a hotel because ... ?'

'You'll see.'

Arthur ignored the look his partner was giving him and strode through the large wooden doors for the third time that day. He marched up to the reception desk and waited for the man to notice him. The receptionist looked mildly surprised when he finally did.

'Good evening, sir,' he said politely. 'What brings you to the Cormorant this time?'

'I'd like a quick word with you, if you wouldn't mind,' Arthur replied as Dom came to a stop behind him. 'Somewhere more private, if you please.'

The man frowned – did Arthur detect a hint of panic in his eyes? – and walked into the small room behind him. He returned seconds later accompanied by a young red-haired lady.

'This way, sirs,' the man said, returning to the room.

Arthur gestured for Dom to follow. Once inside, he shut the door behind them and turned to face the receptionist.

'I'll make this quick,' he began, shrugging out of his jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. 'I want to know who you've been speaking to.'

'E-excuse me? I – have no idea what you're talking about, sir.'

Arthur closed the gap between them in two quick strides and gripped the man's collar between his fists. 'Don't play smart with me,' he growled, ignoring Cobb's protests behind him. 'You were the only one, besides me, who knew she was staying here. They must have tailed her from here to the airport, which means _someone_ tipped them off about her stay.'

'Arthur, what the hell are you doing?' Cobb whispered furiously. 'Let him go, for Christ's sake.'

'The sooner you tell me what I need to know the faster you can get back to work and forget this ever happened.'

The man was clawing at Arthur's fingers, trying to release his iron grip on his collar, but to no avail. Arthur gave him a rough shake and tightened his hold.

'Tell me! Did you tip anyone off about her stay here?'

The man nodded and spluttered his reply. 'T-they brought in a photo of her and a-asked me if she was here. I told them no, I promise! B-but they kept on and on until I said yes. They must have k-known I was lying. They t-threatened me with a gun, for pity's sake! P-please, don't hurt me!'

'Did they say anything else?'

'No, they j-just gave me some money and told me to k-keep my mouth shut or else they'd come back. Please, you c-can't tell them!'

Arthur took one hand from the man's collar and reached inside his jacket pocket. He extracted two envelopes, one brown and the white one he had handed over earlier that day. Dropping his other hand from the man's shirt, he opened up the brown one and looked inside.

'Well now, this has been quite a lucrative day for you, hasn't it?' he said, glaring at him. 'Probably more than you earn in six months.'

He shoved the envelopes into his own pocket and flexed his stiff fingers. Without warning he suddenly swung out his arm and smacked the man full in the face.

'Arthur!' Cobb cried, leaping forward to grab his partner's arm.

'Next time someone asks you to watch over a lady, be a man and do it,' Arthur spat. 'You miserable coward.' He let his gaze linger on the receptionist, now cowering on the floor, trying to stem the flow of blood from his broken nose. 'Say _anything_ about this again, and those men will be the least of your worries.'

With that, he turned on his heel, picked up his jacket, and marched out of the room, leaving Cobb to follow in his wake. He ignored the shocked face of the redhead at the desk and stormed out to the parked car.

Arthur was about to jump into the driver's seat when Cobb made a noise and held out his hand. 'I don't think so,' he said. 'I'll drive this time. I don't want any more 'detours' on the way.'

Arthur said nothing. He slid the keys over the roof of the car and walked around to the passenger's side, throwing himself into the seat and staring out of the window.

They drove for another ten minutes before Cobb decided to speak again. 'So, just what the hell was that back there?' He glanced at his partner, who remained silent. 'Arthur, I deserve an explanation. We got nothing useful out of him. It was a pointless diversion, and it could cost us precious time in getting to Browning.'

'I needed to be sure,' Arthur said shortly.

'Of what?'

'That he was the reason Ariadne was taken. He sold her out to Browning and his men. I had a hunch, but I wanted to know for sure.'

'So you go off on a personal vendetta against an innocent man?'

'Innocent?' Arthur scoffed. 'Please. He's a wretched coward who would do anything for a bit of money.'

'That still doesn't give you the right to walk in and bust his nose,' Cobb reproached. 'What if he calls the cops and tells them what happened?'

'He won't. He'll be too shit-scared that I'll go back and punish him if he does. Not to mention Browning's men.'

Cobb sighed and shook his head. 'This isn't like you, Arthur. You're always so focused, never letting your personal emotions cloud your judgement.'

'I've got it under control.'

'Yeah, well, I'd hate to see you out of control,' Cobb said, flinging his own words back at him.

The irony was not lost on Arthur. He knew how unusual his behaviour was, but right then it didn't matter. The only thing that was important was finding out every detail possible so they could formulate a plan against Browning and Cobol's men. Short of that, they were walking into the lion's den, unprotected and unarmed. And for once in his life, Arthur was frightened they wouldn't make it back.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I hope the last chapter was okay for everyone! I realise it was ... quite different, but I think, given the circumstances, Arthur can be forgiven for losing a little bit of his control. He deserves to. :)**

**Anyway, as I spent all day off sick from work and writing the whole time (instead of sleeping, which would have been wiser!), I've decided to put one more up before I fall into bed. Less than 6 hours sleep will do nothing to help me recover in time for tomorrow, but what can I say - writing and publishing has become somewhat of an addiction this week! I'm not too sure if that's a good or bad thing ...  
**

**16.**

Browning had been right: it _wasn't_ hard to spot his men standing guard outside the warehouse. Arthur marvelled at how stereotypical they all appeared, dressed in black suits and ties and doing their best to hide the fact that they were all packing heavy-duty firearms under their jackets.

'Not very subtle, are they?' Cobb muttered as he pulled up behind a black limousine stationed in front of the warehouse door.

They were surrounded the second they stepped out of the car, flanked by four 9mm pistols with suited thugs attached to the butts. One of the men stepped forwards and began patting them down, relieving Arthur of his trusty Glock 17. He noticed they found nothing on Dom, and assumed that he had left his own gun at home. _Maybe with Miles,_ he thought sadly. He hoped the old man wouldn't need to use it.

'Get inside,' one of the men ordered, shoving the point of his gun into Arthur's back.

They did as instructed and followed in the middle of the group of men. He noted with some dismay that the inside of the warehouse looked similar to the one in Paris they had spent so many weeks working in, preparing for Fischer's Inception. It was lit by a single light bulb in the centre of the room, casting a bright circle on the floor below but leaving the rest of the warehouse in comparative darkness. Heck, they even had garden chairs laid out around the PASIV device.

It was then Arthur spotted the two figures slumbering – so peacefully – in two of the chairs. He felt his heart start to pound as his eyes flicked over first Eames, with one black eye and a swollen top lip, and then Ariadne. His first thought was how peculiar she looked without the customary scarf tied around her neck, and then he realised how absurd it sounded given the situation. He tried not to stare at them as they came to a stop in the middle of the room.

'Ah, nice of you to join us.' Arthur whipped his head to the right to see Browning standing there, dressed in a dark blue suit, a smirk twisting his lips as he looked at the two newcomers. 'I was beginning to wonder if you would show at all. You wouldn't happen to have taken a little detour on the way, would you?'

Arthur's heart skipped at beat. Had he found out about their visit to the hotel? _If that bastard's ratted us out I'll fucking kill him next time._

'We're not that stupid,' Cobb replied coolly. 'Besides, where do you think we would go?'

'I don't pretend to know your minds, Mr. Cobb. But I _do_ know your type, and I wouldn't trust you as far as I could spit. Thieves and liars, that's all you are.'

'Funny, I always thought businessmen lived up to the same reputation.'

Arthur had to fight to keep a blank look as he watched the smile drop from Browning's face, his expression contorting into barely-suppressed rage. He didn't know Cobb had it in him to be so sarcastic in the face of such danger.

'Carry on with that kind of cheek, boy, and you'll soon regret it.' He moved closer to them, looking them up and down in much the same way a dealer would scrutinise a new car. 'Now, I have someone who's eager to see you,' he continued, gesturing to his left. 'I believe you've met before.'

Arthur followed Browning's gaze and watched as another man emerged from the gloom to his right. His jaw nearly dropped when he saw the familiar childlike face and cropped blonde hair.

'Denley?' Cobb said, his surprise equal to Arthur's. 'What the hell are _you_ doing here?'

'A silly question, really,' Denley chuckled. 'I _do_ work for Cobol, after all.'

'Oh yeah, I forgot you sold yourself out to the highest bidder.'

'So cruel. Isn't that what Extractors do, after all? We're all in it for the money, at the end of the day. The thrill of the job is simply a bonus.'

'Speak for yourself,' Arthur retorted.

Denley turned his focus to the Point Man, one eyebrow cocked and the hint of a grin on his lips. 'Ah, Arthur. Still in the business, I see. I can't believe you haven't ditched him yet,' he added, addressing Cobb. 'He always was far too traditional for my liking. No imagination.'

Arthur ignored the taunt. He couldn't afford to rise to the bait and risk losing control, as he seemed to be doing so often lately. So he pursed his lips together and said nothing.

'Enough of the reunion,' Browning said, marching over to stand in between the three men. 'You're here for a reason. I want to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.'

'I told you before, we don't even know what to do,' Cobb replied as Denley's men set about getting the chairs ready. 'You're asking us to go in without any planning, any prior knowledge. Something like this would take weeks – months, even – to research and prepare for.'

'Well then, it's too bad for you that you've only got until Friday. That's when Robert plans to announce his decision live to the world. If it goes ahead, I'll know who to blame.

Arthur looked over at the suited men again as they settled into the four remaining chairs and started to prepare themselves for another shared-dreaming session. 'Why are you keeping them under if you already know we did it?' he asked, turning to Browning.

'Because we need to know _how_ you did it,' Denley answered before Browning had even opened his mouth. 'Just asking you about it isn't enough.'

'But they were only a part of the team,' Cobb said. 'They don't know every detail about the job. They only played specific roles.'

'Exactly.' Arthur thought he saw a glint in Denley's eyes as he looked at Cobb; it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 'Which is why you're _all_ here.'

Arthur hardly had time to contemplate his words when a cry from behind made him spin around. The warehouse door was kicked open and two men bundled through, dragging another figure between them. Arthur felt his heart sink further into the pit of his stomach as he realised who it was.

'I'm sure you both know this gentleman,' Denley said cheerfully, motioning for the two men to release their hold on Yusuf; he promptly fell to the floor, unable to stand. 'Or should I say, your Chemist?'

'Jesus Christ, what did you do to him?' Cobb muttered as he looked at the bruised and bloody man crumpled on the ground in front of him.

'We don't tolerate anyone resisting arrest, Cobb. You would know that if you'd hung around Tokyo for a few hours more.' Denley wandered over to Yusuf and looked down at him thoughtfully. 'He killed one of my men when they tried to grab his little daughter. Doesn't look like a violent type, does he? I suppose a man will go to any lengths to protect the ones he loves.'

He stared at Cobb as he whispered the last sentence, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile. Right then, Arthur would have given anything to have been alone in the room with Denley. _Just five minutes._ That was all he wanted.

'We're ready, sir,' one of Denley's men called out.

Everyone turned to look at him. Everyone, that was, except for Yusuf, who was still unable raise his head, let alone move.

'Good. Give it another go. And you, pick the Chemist up and put him on one of the spare beds. We don't want him passing out too soon.'

Arthur watched as the man nodded and pressed the release button. All four men promptly drifted off to sleep.

'How comes they didn't wake up after the last dream?' Arthur murmured, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

Denley apparently heard him, for he let out a low chuckle. 'We've got them sedated. After the first time my men went under with them, the Brit made such a ruckus and smacked poor Gunther right in the throat. He had trouble breathing for a while after that. It's easier to keep them pacified.'

'But it's dangerous,' Arthur growled. 'One wrong move and you could send them both into Limbo.'

'That's not our intention. But it _is_ a possibility should things not go according to plan.' The corner of his mouth sloped into a one-sided smirk as he looked at the Point Man, taking in his clenched jaw and balled-up fists. 'You know, I don't think I've ever seen you this ... emotional. It's quite the sight.'

'Fuck off,' Arthur snapped.

'And such a mouth! I didn't think you had it in you, old boy. All those Extractions we did together, and all it takes is one little lady to get your blood pumping. Unless – don't tell me – you actually care for that smug British bastard instead?'

Arthur forced himself to turn away as Denley continued to snort with laughter. He'd get him back, eventually. It was the least he could do after what Denley had put Cobb and him through the last time they had met. He stared at the dreamers, and was shocked when the four men suddenly woke up, grumbling and clutching their heads.

'Same again,' one of them said. Arthur heard Denley grunt behind him. 'We just can't get close enough.'

Was it his imagination, or did the men's eyes flicker to Arthur for a second before they pulled the needles from their wrists and stood up? He passed it off as nothing and looked at the other two sleepers instead. It was strange, but they looked so peaceful lying in the chairs. If it wasn't for the slow, steady rise and fall of their chests, he would have sworn they were dead.

'Let me go in,' he said suddenly, drawing everyone's attention to him.

'And why should we do that?' Denley asked, one eyebrow cocked again.

'Just let me do it. I can talk to them, find out what's wrong.' He turned to Browning, who had been oddly silent for a long time. 'If you _don't_ let me do it, I'll be damned if I'll help you with anything else.'

Browning laughed, the harsh sound reverberating off the warehouse walls. 'I don't think you're in much of a position to negotiate, son. Besides, I'm not sure Mr. Cobb here would thank you when he ends up rotting in a top-security prison for the rest of his life.'

'No, I think we should let him,' Denley said, a curious expression on his face that Arthur – worryingly – could not place. 'He's not got the imagination required to do anything stupid in there.'

Denley gestured for Arthur to lie down in one of the chairs. Cobb stood motionless, a frown on his face as he watched his partner ready himself for the next dream. The look on his face said it all: _I hope you know what you're doing._ Arthur wasn't entirely sure himself, but he could improvise as well as the next man – contrary to what Denley thought.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur pressed the button. He felt the cool liquid seep into his veins, could hear the hiss of the machine beside him, and then ... nothing.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Just wanted to say, again, a huge thank you for all the wonderful reviews you guys have given me so far (and I only just realised that 'Anonymous Reviews' is automatically disabled, so sorry for those anons. who couldn't do it before! If there are any. It's now enabled.) Now, I can't complain about the people who haven't reviewed, because I'm terrible at it myself. I never quite know what to say, so just smile, think, 'That was good', maybe favourite/alert it, and be done. But for those taking the time out to tell me what you think - you guys are the best, and spur me on to write each new chapter. I don't believe I've ever written a story quite as quickly as this one, and I have a feeling that is a huge factor in it. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. :)**

**17.**

Ariadne was sitting on a bench gazing up at the Notre Dame as it loomed above her. It was her favourite spot in the entire city bar none. Such beautiful architecture. So much history. Such a wonderful atmosphere, people bustling about speaking in rapid French, tourists taking photo after photo, trying to get the perfect one before they left.

Which is how she knew that she was still dreaming. Besides the fact that she couldn't remember how she got there, or that her totem simply refused to topple over no matter how many times she pushed it – it was too quiet. Not a soul breathed in the city except for her. It was eerie, she decided. She would never have imagined she would have the chance to sit outside the famous cathedral and have it all to herself.

'There you are, darling.'

Well, nearly all to herself. She looked up as Eames sauntered over to sit next to her.

'I've been looking for you for ages,' he said wearily. 'Seems we're in it together again this time. A couple of dreams ago it was just me, the bastards.'

'How did you ... you know ... _stop_ them? From getting the information they want?'

'I have my ways,' Eames said with a half-smile and a wink, though Ariadne noticed that his mirth did not quite extend to his eyes.

She decided it was best not to ask him to elaborate; she wasn't sure she would like the answer. So she resumed her study of the wonderful building in front of her, admiring every one of its intricacies and wondering how the men – whoever they were – had known how special it was to her. Had they researched her, like they would any other Mark? It seemed men like these could find out anything they wanted, no matter how obscure the detail. It made her uncomfortable just thinking about it, and she fidgeted in her seat.

'What do you think they're trying to do?' she finally asked, her fingers coiled around the small bishop in her pocket.

'Well, from what I gathered before they put us under for good, they're trying to figure out how we pulled off the Inception on Fischer.'

'But – how did they find out?'

'God only knows. I remember seeing Browning after we woke up the first time. And another guy I recognise, but I can't place him. After that it gets a bit hazy.'

'I don't remember much at all,' Ariadne said quietly. 'Just snippets of places.'

'That's because you haven't been doing it as long as I have,' Eames said, patting her knee in the same way a father might his daughter, to reassure her. 'You'll get used to it, start recalling more each time you wake up. Though, to be fair, this is quite different. We're not usually thrown from dream to dream unless we do it in layers, like the Inception. Dreams within a dream. This is just one after another, with nothing in between.'

Ariadne had to choke back the sob that was lodged somewhere in her throat. Crying wasn't going to help their predicament. She envied Eames' ability to stay so calm, and assumed it was something they learned on the job. Apart from that one outburst from Cobb during the first layer of the Inception, she had never seen any of them lose their nerve, their incredible composure. Of course, it was also the reason they could move from one job to another without so much as batting an eyelid – something that had infuriated her the last time she had thought about it. She blushed slightly at the memory.

'Guess we just wait here and see what happens, as usual,' Eames said as he stretched his arms towards the sky. 'If it's anything like the last four dreams I've shared with you, I have a pretty good idea how it's going to end.'

Ariadne tried hard to ignore Eames' pointed stare, choosing to focus on her feet instead. She, too, knew how the dream would pan out. _He_ would show up and, what – rescue them? Is that what he was doing?

As if reacting to her thoughts, the doors to the Notre Dame slowly opened and a suited, slick-haired man walked out, the heels of his dress shoes clicking on the stones beneath his feet.

'Ah, Arthur, nice of you to join us,' Eames said with a smile. 'I was beginning to wonder if you would show up at all.'

Arthur said nothing. He simply moved to stand behind Ariadne, so close she could almost feel his shirt against her neck, his breath on the top of her head. She couldn't stop the shiver that rippled across her body, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. This made her even more determined not to react and she continued to look at her feet as though they were the most exciting thing she had ever seen.

'You know, I think I prefer this Arthur,' Eames said, standing up and staring at the other man. 'He talks a lot less. And he's _so_ much more fun to be around.'

He moved around to the back of the bench and clapped Arthur on the back. Ariadne watched as he began clicking his fingers in front of the Point Man's face, waving his hand before his eyes, then shrug when Arthur failed to react. Defeated, he slumped back down next to Ariadne.

'He must have made one hell of an impression on you.'

Ariadne whipped her head up to look at the Forger, her brow furrowed. 'What? Why do you say that?'

Eames let out a soft chuckle. 'Come on, Ariadne. Don't play the innocent with me. There's not a single person – projection, if you will – around this damn place besides you, me and Dopey here. He says nothing the whole time, just stands by your side with his blasted gun and shoots at anything that moves before we're even aware they're there. Real people don't just pop up in your dreams without good reason.'

'I don't know what you mean,' Ariadne whispered, trying to hide her pink cheeks behind her hair.

'Please. You know it's obvious when even Yusuf spots it, the blind bat that he is.'

'What?'

'Oh yes, we could all see it. Mouth at me all you want, but you can't deny there's something between you two. Even before the Inception and that week you spent shacked up in a hotel room. I'm sure you got pretty close then, eh?'

'Shut up, Eames,' Ariadne muttered. 'This isn't the time or place to be making such stupid jokes.'

She noticed her choice of words too late and groaned inwardly as Eames started to laugh. 'He's really rubbed off on you, hasn't he? Besides the potty mouth, of course. That one really surprised me. I didn't know he had it in him. He's usually so prim and proper, cold like a wet fish. Maybe I've had him wrong all this time.'

Ariadne opened her mouth to deny his accusations again when she heard footsteps approaching to her right. She turned her head, but couldn't see anyone.

'That's odd,' Eames said, standing up and looking in the same direction, his joker act dropped in an instant. 'We've never actually heard them before. He usually guns them down before we have the chance.'

Ariadne glanced up at Arthur, who was standing motionless behind her, staring in front of him as though oblivious to everything else. Looking at his hardened expression, remembering the ease with which he had killed the men in each dream, not to mention during the Inception, she couldn't help but shudder. She had forgotten just how dangerous the other side to Arthur was – and wondered how she could have possibly forgotten.

'He hasn't moved this time,' she commented as she followed Eames' example and got up off the bench.

'Something's wrong,' Eames muttered. 'Different.'

They continued to listen to the soft footsteps as they grew steadily louder, nearer. Ariadne could feel her heart hammering and gripped the totem in her pocket, more for comfort than anything else. She watched as a shadow rounded the corner of the large cathedral, followed by its owner, and gasped when she saw who it was.

'What the bloody hell?' Eames murmured beside her.

Ariadne waited until the figure drew closer, taking in the familiar attire and stiff, dark hair. 'Arthur?' she breathed, her head pounding as she fought to comprehend just what the hell was going on.

She felt a stab of fear somewhere in her chest and glanced up at the man standing behind her. _Two Arthurs?_ That couldn't be right. They were playing tricks on her again, trying to confuse her, manipulate her into giving them the information they wanted. She wouldn't – she _couldn't_ – let them.

Ariadne watched in horror as the man walking towards her opened his mouth to speak – and screamed as the bullet rang in her ears, sending him crashing to the floor, blood seeping out of the hole in his forehead.

**Random, near-irrelevant note from the author!: So, this isn't strictly related to the story, but I just thought I'd share it with you guys anyway, for those who are interested. Now, one of my favourite artists right now is Owl City, and in particular his album Ocean Eyes. Such fantastic, uplifting music (which everyone should definitely check out if they like upbeat, quirky songs. Perfect for summer!) It occurred to me at work, whilst I was listening to the album and thinking of my story (a distraction from the boredom, you see!), that quite a few of his lyrics are rather appropriate for the pairing of Arthur/Ariadne (maybe just in my story), and some for the whole concept of Inception. I'll list a few short ones here and see what you guys think. :) I know, a very strange thing to do, but humour me!**

**(My) Arthur/Ariadne:**

**- **I can finally see that/You're right there beside me  
I am not my own/For I have been made new  
Please don't let me go/I desperately need you

- "Meteor Shower", Ocean Eyes

- (Time together isn't ever quite enough)  
When you and I are alone,  
I've never felt so at home  
(What will it take to make or break this hint of love?)  
Only time, only time  
(When we're apart whatever are you thinking of?)  
If this is what I call home,  
why does it feel so alone?  
(So tell me darling,  
do you wish we'd fall in love?)  
Oh, all the time

- "The Saltwater Room", Ocean Eyes

**Inception:**

- It's hard to say that I'd  
Rather stay awake when I'm asleep  
'Cause everything is never as it seems.  
(When I fall asleep.)

**For the last line of the song, substitute the previous two lines with**

(Because my dreams are bursting at the seams)

- "Fireflies", Ocean Eyes

**Now you can all see where I got my username from! Not that it's particularly exciting, but still. I just thought I'd share these random thoughts with you all as I'm feeling in a rather happy mood as I listen to the songs. So - agree? Disagree? Don't much care and think this was a pointless, irritating addendum to the story? If you think the latter, I apologise! Perhaps I'm thinking about my story too much and reading into the concept a little too deeply. Still, it sure beats concentrating on my work.**


	18. Chapter 18

**18.**

Arthur sat bolt upright in the garden chair, rubbing the spot on his forehead where seconds earlier he had felt a bullet pierce his skull. _What the fuck was that? _He was dimly aware of others standing around him, looking down at him as he tried to steady his breathing.

'Jesus Christ,' he muttered.

'What happened?' Cobb asked, sitting down on the chair next to Arthur's. 'Did you find them?'

'Yeah, I did. But ...' He stopped, unsure of what to say. ' ... he shot me.'

'Who did?'

'_I_ did. I ... think.'

Cobb frowned, his bemused expression matching Arthur's. 'You ... saw _yourself_ in the dream? In _your_ dream? What, like a projection?'

'I guess so. But there weren't any others around, so I don't know for sure.'

'That's the sedative we use,' Denley said, making Arthur jump. He had forgotten about the others in the room. 'It suppresses the subconscious enough so that it is unable to create any projections. There was no point in trying to convince them they weren't dreaming; there never is with another Extractor. We thought sedating them would make our job easier. So you can understand our surprise when we found not only our two subjects here, but _you_ as well.'

'A real goddamn knight in shining armour,' Browning grunted.

'Quite so,' Denley said, nodding. 'Whenever my men go under with both of them – even just her – you show up and shoot them all dead before they can get anywhere near them. Even that bastard Eames was too good by himself. But we keep on experimenting, nonetheless.'

'Would you please stop referring to him as 'you'?' Arthur grumbled. 'That's not me in there. Not really ... '

'Well, whoever he is, he poses a big problem for us, as you've no doubt seen. Unless we can figure out how to suppress him, too, _your_ job becomes much more difficult.'

'Hang on a minute,' Cobb interrupted, looking from Denley to Browning, and back again. 'It's not _our_ fault that Arthur – whoever is he – keeps ruining your fun in there. You can't punish us for screwing it up.'

'Oh, but we can, Cobb. You see, Mr. Browning here has stipulated that everything must be complete by Friday – which gives you six days to perform the job. So you better get a move on.'

'I've _told_ you, we won't be able to do anything in that time! It took us two whole months to prepare for Fischer's job. There's no way in hell we'll be able to figure out how to reverse it _and_ complete it in six days. You're kidding yourself if you think any differently.'

'We're not the ones with our lives at risk, Cobb. That alone should be enough incentive for you.'

Arthur listened to the exchange between the two men, too baffled to contribute much else. He was still puzzling over what had taken place in the dream, and just how he was going to get close enough to Ariadne and Eames to convince them that he was no threat. He didn't particularly fancy being shot in the head by his doppelganger a second time – it was just too bizarre to imagine.

'Let me try again,' he said, interrupting the conversation of the other two men. 'I _know_ I can get them to talk to me. Get past ... _him_.'

'Forgive my stating the obvious, but didn't you just get shot in the head like the rest of us?' Denley said, his amusement plain for all to see. 'What makes you think you'd fare any better the second time around?'

'Because unlike you jackasses, those guys know and trust me. I won't be there to interrogate and manipulate them.'

'Mm, we'll see.' Denley spread his hands out in surrender. 'All right, fine. I'll give you another five minutes. Do try to stay the distance this time.'

'Asshole,' Arthur muttered under his breath, seconds before the button was pressed and the warehouse around him disappeared once more.

He opened his eyes to find himself staring down the length of a corridor lined with doors and billboards. He caught the faint hint of chalk in the air and immediately realised where he was. _Ariadne's college._ _Good, it worked. _It was the only place he could think of where she would feel safe. The first dream had come out of nowhere, a half-forgotten memory buried in the recesses of his mind. He dimly recalled that she had once told him, during one of their many training sessions, that her favourite place in Paris – in the whole world – was outside the Notre Dame. He supposed his subconscious had dredged up that particular detail and used it to try to lull her into a sense of security before he confronted them. But this dream – her college in Paris – had been a conscious reconstruction. He had to find some way of making both Ariadne and Eames feel comfortable before attempting to talk to them again. And since it seemed that it was Ariadne's subconscious that was in control, he figured she was the one to target.

Straining his ears for any sounds, he began to move down the hallway, peering in to each room he passed and finding them all empty. _This is so weird,_ he thought with an involuntary shudder. He had never been in a dream with no projections before, and found himself wondering how on earth they had come up with such a sedative. Even Yusuf hadn't mentioned one like it, and he was widely considered to be one of the best Chemists around. Arthur made a mental note to check up on it when he got back out and carried on inspecting the rooms around him.

It wasn't long before he heard voices somewhere up ahead. He stopped in his tracks, holding his breath and trying hard to listen to what they were saying; but all he could make out was a murmur, one male voice and one female. _Has to be them. There's no-one else around. _He edged closer to the room the talking was coming from and peeked around the door. He thought he recognised the place – a lecture theatre with narrow steps leading to a small desk and blackboard at the bottom. _Of course. Miles' old place._ He had only been there twice before, but he could still picture it clearly in his mind. Thankfully enough.

Arthur scanned the small room, his eyes immediately finding the two figures seated near the bottom. There was no sign of _him_ anywhere, but that didn't mean he wouldn't show up if he wasn't careful. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for the inevitable conflict.

'Ariadne?' he called out, his back still pressed against the wall on the outside of the room. 'Eames? Is that you?'

He heard the sound of a chair squeaking as the murmuring stopped. His heart was pounding in his chest, though he knew he was in no _real_ danger. It was hard to hear properly with the throbbing in his ears, but he could just about make out the soft footsteps of someone wearing trainers.

'Arthur?'

It was Ariadne. He peered around the corner again to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the doorway.

'Yeah, it's me. Are you ... alone?'

'Why'd you ask?' Eames called out, moving to stand behind Ariadne. 'You're not the Arthur we've been used to.'

'No, I'm not. It's really me.'

'How ... how do we know?' Ariadne asked, her voice thick with the doubt she was clearly feeling.

Arthur frowned, wondering how he was going to convince them. His hand strayed to his pocket, to the opening, and then to the small cube nestled inside. He smiled. _Bingo._ Peering around the edge of the doorframe again, he held the red die out for both of them to see.

'See it? This is my totem, a red loaded die. I would tell you which side it's loaded on, but only I'm supposed to know that.' He saw Ariadne visibly relax as she squinted up at his hand and took his chance, moving to stand in the middle of the doorway. 'Is _he_ with you?'

'Haven't seen him so far,' Eames answered. 'We think he's something to do with Ariadne's fears. Whenever she gets nervous or scared he shows up and blasts everyone away.'

Arthur thought he could detect a hint of admiration, a grudging respect in the Forger's voice, though he couldn't be sure. This was, after all, the man who took pleasure in belittling him every chance he got; and Arthur, in his turn, found it amusing to favour Eames with his condescension. They were like brothers, he realised, only without the blood tie and very few fond memories in between. Their exchanges during the Inception had been an exception to the rule.

'Can I come in?' he asked. 'I won't be shot again, will I?'

He smiled down at his colleagues. If they had been closer to him they would have seen that it didn't quite extend to his eyes.

'Can't promise anything, mate. I don't think even our little Architect here can control him.'

Arthur nodded and walked down the first three stairs, pausing to look around him when he reached the third. Deciding that there was no immediate danger, he trotted down the remaining steps and stood just above the others.

'So, what brings you to our lovely little nightmare?' Eames asked. 'And why the hell is there no-one else here besides us and the mute?'

'Browning and his men have you sedated with a special formula, something that suppresses the subconscious enough so that it can't produce projections,' Arthur explained, looking between the two. 'They've kept you asleep in between dreams so that you didn't cause them any trouble when you woke up.'

'Makes sense,' Eames said, nodding. 'I only remember waking up once, and maybe ... punching someone in the face? Ah, it's all a bit of a blur.'

'Why are they doing this to us?' Ariadne asked in a small voice.

Arthur let his gaze fall solely on her. She looked so frightened, so pale even in the dream. It was as much as he could do to keep his hands in his pockets and not pull her into a tight embrace. He couldn't possibly explain how glad he was to see her again, even within the confines of the dreamscape. At least now he could do his best to fulfil his promise and protect her, though the details of such a vow he had yet to work out.

'They want to know how we performed the Inception on Fischer,' he said, looking between the two again. 'Browning's given us until Friday to do it. That's when Fischer plans to announce his decision to break up his father's empire to the world's media.'

'So ... what day is it today then?' Eames asked with a frown. 'I've kind of lost track of time down here.'

'It's Saturday, which means we've got six days to do it in.'

'Impossible,' the Forger muttered. 'How the hell does he expect us to do it in six days?'

Arthur shrugged. 'I have no idea. But right now, I'm just glad to see you alive and well.'

He tried not to focus on Ariadne as he said it, but he couldn't stop the involuntary glance at her.

'You can hardly call it that,' Eames pointed out.

'Perhaps not, but you look a damn sight better down here than you do up there.'

Eames flinched. 'Don't remind me. I vaguely remember being smacked in the face and hit in the mouth with the butt of a gun. Nearly cracked my damn teeth. After that it gets a bit hazy.'

'They found out where Ariadne was through you,' Arthur said before he could stop himself.

He saw the look of guilt that flashed across the other man's face, and almost regretted his words. He still couldn't bring himself to forgive Eames for his – albeit unwilling – part in Ariadne's capture. Worst of all, he couldn't forgive _himself_ for it. His logical mind knew that Eames wasn't at fault, that they had likely extracted that piece of information from his mind when he was still reeling from the attack, before he could get his guard back up, but he still couldn't help the small twinge of resentment that bubbled away in the pit of his stomach.

'I couldn't help that,' Eames said with a helpless look at Ariadne. 'They must have – got it from me when I was still woozy. I _was_ battered around, you know.'

'I know,' Arthur replied. 'But that still doesn't change the fact that they got to her through you. If you'd have been more alert to the danger we might not be in this mess. I shouldn't be the only one keeping a lookout after such a dangerous mission.'

Arthur felt like kicking himself in the head. Why was he behaving like a complete jerk? It was neither the time nor the place for it, and certainly Eames had done nothing to warrant such harsh criticism.

'And where were _you_ when she was taken?' Eames shot back, both men seemingly oblivious to the young lady in question standing quietly between them. 'Maybe if _you_ had done your job properly in the first place we wouldn't have been stuck in this damn hellhole for God knows how long, waiting and watching your creepy little twin kill every bastard that comes into sight. Including _you_, I might add. And he only seems to attack those she feels most threatened by. What does that say about _you_?'

Arthur took a step towards him, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets. He was about to open his mouth and give the Forger a piece of his mind when Ariadne threw her hands out, one pushing against each man's chest.

'Stop it, both of you!' she hissed. 'This isn't helping. It doesn't matter _whose_ fault it is. What's important is how we get back. Now stop the stupid bickering and start thinking about a way out.'

Arthur looked down at her hand, still clutching the fabric of his shirt, then back up at Eames. He felt his irritation slide away under her touch.

'I'm sorry,' he muttered. 'I ... didn't mean it. I know it wasn't your fault.' He heaved a sigh and shook his head. 'It's been one hell of a day.'

'Yeah, for us all,' Eames replied, the anger gone from his voice, too. 'How're the others? Did they get everyone?'

'All bar Saito so far. Though they're apparently still tracking him down.'

'Cobb?'

'He's up top with me.'

Eames' face fell. Ariadne dropped her hands from their chests, though Arthur swore she left her right one on his shirt just a fraction longer. Maybe he had imagined it. Considering how addled his mind was, he wouldn't be surprised.

'Oh no,' Ariadne breathed, slumping down on the stair beneath her. 'Poor Cobb. He just got his family back, too. It's not fair. It's not _right._'

'What did the scumbags threaten you with?' Eames asked.

'First off Browning said they'd kill you both here and send you to Limbo,' Arthur said, trying to keep his voice as even as possible, something he was having difficulty with lately. 'Then he told Dom he'd have him sent to jail for Mal's murder, just as an added incentive to make him cooperate.'

'Sons of bitches,' Eames muttered, shaking his head. 'I guess we don't have much of a choice.'

Arthur didn't answer. They all knew the situation, even if they didn't want to admit it out loud. An awkward silence descended over the small group, none of them knowing quite what to say in the face of such an awful truth. Nobody could have imagined how the week would end, each of them fearing for their very lives after completing what they had thought was the hardest job possible. Then again, they hadn't banked on Browning's swift, furious retribution and the fact that he would hire a skilled Extractor to help him exact it. _That_ had been the biggest shock of them all. _Fucking Denley,_ Arthur thought, his mood instantly souring at the thought of their captor._ We should have killed him when we had the chance. _He wondered just how many more surprises were in store for them in the days to come.

Arthur was racking his brains for something – _anything _ – else to say to relieve the heavy tension in the room when he heard a familiar rumble beneath his feet. Eames noticed it next, followed by Ariadne.

'Time's up,' he muttered, looking at his companions. 'The dream's collapsing.'

'See you on the other side, then,' Eames said with a nod. 'Eventually.'

Arthur glanced at Ariadne, who was now standing up and looking around as though expecting to be swallowed up at any second. _She wouldn't be too far wrong._ She jumped as a piece of the ceiling fell with a crash behind them, crushing Miles' table as though it were made of sand. Arthur reached out towards her without thinking, but stopped as a large crack opened beneath his feet, making him stumble. Ariadne gripped his sleeve, her eyes boring into his, pleading with him.

'Don't go,' she whispered. Arthur felt his heart beating in his throat as he looked at her terrified expression. 'Please, don't leave. You promised ... you promised to protect us, to protect _me_.'

Arthur covered her hand with his, opened his mouth to reassure her, to tell her he would see her again soon, but he didn't have the chance. The world around him vanished before he could get the words past his lips.

**A/N: Perhaps those 'Saltwater Room' lyrics I put up would have been better suited to this chapter? Hmm. In fact, probably any lyrics I listed as being appropriate for the relationship between these two. Never mind! I hope it didn't spoil your enjoyment of the story too much to have that load of waffle on the end. :/ It was a completely random thing to do, but hey - we all have to have those moments every now and again, right?**


	19. Chapter 19

**19.**

Arthur opened his eyes again, slowly this time. He moved his hand to his arm, rubbing the spot where Ariadne had clutched hold of him. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel her fingers wrapped around his wrist, could see her brown eyes as she begged him not to leave. He would have stayed – of course he would – if he had been given the choice.

He looked over at the two sleeping figures as someone sat down on the chair next to him. 'Did you get closer this time?' Cobb asked, waiting for Arthur to meet his anxious gaze.

Arthur nodded, massaging his wrist as he pulled the needle out. 'I managed to speak to them without him showing up once. They have no idea what's going on. We need to get them back out, or who knows what'll happen to them? It's probably like being in Limbo, only at least they _know_ they're dreaming.' _Hopefully,_ he added mentally. 'You could have given me five more minutes,' he muttered to Denley, who was standing nearby, listening to every word of the conversation.

'What, dream time, or real time?' Denley asked, smirking. 'I _could _have done, but that would depend on what you were doing down there.'

The insinuation, coupled with the cocked eyebrow, left no doubt in Arthur's mind as to what Denley was getting at. He scowled at the Extractor as he watched him edge closer to Ariadne's chair.

'You're one twisted son of a bitch, Denley,' Arthur muttered.

'I try my best.' He stopped next to the Architect, his eyes roaming over her prone body. 'Can't blame you, though. I mean, just look at her. So pretty. Innocent. _Corruptible_.'

He leant closer to Ariadne's slumbering figure, his hand hovering inches above her jeans-clad thigh, moving slowly up to trace the outline of her torso, and stopping at her jaw line. Arthur's own hand shot out and grasped his arm before he could stroke her cheek with his finger.

'Don't you dare touch her,' he growled, his nails digging through the fabric of Denley's jacket as he tightened his grip.

Denley straightened up and wrenched his arm from Arthur's hold, his eyes betraying his intense enjoyment at managing to rile the Point Man so. Arthur pushed himself up off his chair and moved to stand in front of Ariadne's, positioning himself between her and Denley. His eyes never left the Extractor's; he could feel the sting as he forced himself not to blink.

Denley snorted a laugh and finally stepped away, shaking his head all the while. 'I see you've finally taken an interest in something _other_ than your job,' he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. 'It's about time. I was beginning to think you'd never be with a woman. A shame you never will, if you screw this assignment up.' He paused, looking from Ariadne to Eames, and back to Arthur again. 'So, what did you find out down there? I take it your little plan worked, if you even had one in the first place.'

Arthur ventured a glance a Cobb, who gave him a small nod. 'Not much,' he admitted. 'Like I said, they have no idea what's going on. They didn't know why there were no projections around, and they're not sure why – _he_ keeps showing up and shooting your men. So you may as well wake them up and talk to them in person. It's pointless keeping them under for all this time, not to mention dangerous.'

'_We'll_ decide when to pull the plug, thank you. You just do as you're told and you _might_ get to see them on this side again.'

Arthur plunged his hands into his pockets to hide the fact that they were clenched into tight fists and turned away, gritting his teeth and inhaling through his nose. _Five minutes. Just give me five minutes with him ..._

'They're smarter than you give them credit for, Denley,' Cobb chipped in, apparently sensing Arthur's irritation. 'Eames has been doing this as long as we have, you know that. And Ariadne's no fool. She may be young but she's the best damn Architect I've ever seen.'

'Oh? Better than me?' Denley asked with a disbelieving grin.

'She has the potential to better than _both_ of us.'

'High praise, indeed. I shall have to keep a closer eye on her in the future, in that case.'

Arthur flung himself onto one of the garden chairs, deliberately avoiding looking at Denley and the others. He let his eyes roam over the bruised face of Eames, then Ariadne. He noticed that her mouth was open ever so slightly, a small wisp of her hair falling over her lips, fluttering with each breath she exhaled. He resisted the urge to brush it out of her face and forced himself to look elsewhere. He gazed around the room, passing quickly over Denley and his men, over Browning as he stood apart from the group smoking a cigar, to a small bed in the corner of the room. He squinted into the darkness and could just about make out a shadowy figure hunched up on the bare mattress. _God, Yusuf._ He felt a pang of guilt as he remembered the Chemist, bruised and bloody when he had been dragged in and dumped at their feet. He had been so caught up in speaking to Eames and Ariadne in the dream that he had completely forgotten the broken man in the corner.

Arthur got up off the chair again and made his way over to the occupied bed, acutely aware that all eyes in the room – barring Yusuf's – were on him. He knelt down beside the bed and leant closer him, trying to get a glimpse of his face.

'Yusuf?' he said quietly, waiting for the Chemist to look at him. 'Are you okay?'

For a long moment Yusuf gave no sign of having heard him. Then, slowly, painfully, he turned onto his side and looked Arthur in the eye. Arthur betrayed no emotion as he studied his bruised face, split lip and eyes so swollen they were now mere slits.

'They took her,' the Chemist whispered, his voice gravelly, no longer smooth and cheerful like Arthur remembered. 'They took Rana.'

'Your daughter?' Yusuf inclined his head on the bed, indicating a 'yes'. 'Goddamn bastards,' Arthur breathed, shaking his head. Was there no end to their sordid deeds? 'I swear, when this is over – '

'And just what are you whispering about over there?'

Arthur ignored Denley's impatient query, holding Yusuf's gaze with his own instead. 'We'll get her back,' he said quietly. 'That's a promise.'

Yusuf nodded again and reached out his hand to give Arthur's a quick squeeze by way of gratitude. Arthur didn't know why he had said such a thing; it was yet another promise he had no guarantee of keeping. But seeing the Chemist's battered body, the unshed tears in his eyes, hearing the sorrow and frustration in his voice – he hadn't known what else to do. How could he possibly attempt to console someone in such a situation? So he had done what he felt was best, what he seemed to be good at lately – he had sworn revenge. The men around him had a lot to answer for, after all.

'I asked you a question,' Denley said.

Arthur could hear his footsteps echoing on the concrete floor as he marched over to the bed. He quickly rose to his feet and turned around to face the Extractor.

'You should have someone see to him,' he said blankly. 'He'll get an infection if he's not treated soon.'

Denley seemed to hesitate; Arthur knew he wanted to laugh off his suggestion and refuse, if only out of spite. But he also realised how important each member of the team was if they were going to have any hope of fulfilling Browning's ridiculous ultimatum, and that meant having them all fully-functional. Not to mention _alive_.

'You, see to him,' Denley barked at one of his men. 'Make sure he's patched up enough so he can work.'

Arthur smiled to himself as he strode past him, hands back in his pockets, and sat down next to Cobb again. His partner gave him a curious look, to which he made no reaction.

'I don't know why you're looking so pleased with yourself, boy,' Browning grunted at him, dropping his cigar butt to the floor and crushing it under his shoe. 'You try anything stupid around here and you'll soon see how quickly I follow up on my promises.'

'I have no idea what you mean,' Arthur said coolly.

Browning scrutinised him for a few moments, his eyes boring into Arthur's as though searching for the answer he required, for a small hint as to what he thought the Point Man was plotting. Arthur kept his expression impassive, depriving him of such satisfaction. The elder man eventually gave up, turning away and muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'smug bastard'.

Cobb leant closer to his partner once he was sure Browning was out of earshot. 'I know that look, Arthur. You're planning something.'

Arthur glanced around the room; Browning was now fiddling with his mobile phone, apparently tapping in a number; Denley was talking to one of his men in the corner, watching over Yusuf's hurried treatment; the remaining three were talking among themselves as they stood guard by the warehouse entrance.

'Perhaps,' Arthur replied, barely opening his mouth as the words slipped past his lips.

The frown was back on Cobb's forehead, creasing his brow as he tried to decipher the look on his partner's face. 'So – what? What are you thinking?'

Arthur shook his head, the movement imperceptible to all but the man who knew him best. Cobb understood immediately; it was too risky with everyone else in the room. He would simply have to be patient.

A quick laugh from the other side of the warehouse made the two men look up. Browning snapped his phone shut and returned to the centre of the room, standing directly below the dim ceiling light. Arthur noted the satisfied smirk on his tanned, wrinkled face and felt his heart sink. _This can't be good._

'Gentlemen, I have some wonderful news,' he announced, motioning for Denley to join the small group. 'My men have just informed me that they have located our last target. You'd better get another chair ready,' he said to Denley, his grin widening. 'We should be expecting Mr. Saito within the next twenty-four hours.'


	20. Chapter 20

**20.**

Arthur had a plan. More precisely, he had the essence of a plan, a small kernel that needed a lot of care and attention before he could see it come to fruition. The idea was a simple one – weren't they all? – but the execution of it would not be. He needed to find some way to convey his thoughts to Cobb, as well as the others, without Denley and his men realising what he was up to. And he had exactly five days in which to do it.

The team had spent much of the last twenty hours reluctantly going over the details of their successful Inception of Fischer with Denley; Browning had been hovering nearby the whole time without uttering a word. By the time they had finished Denley knew everything; there was not a single detail of the job he had overlooked or failed to comment upon.

'I'm impressed,' he said frankly, standing up to stretch his legs. 'And to think, we never thought it possible before now. I attempted it once, without success. Now I see why.'

'So you see just how much time and effort went into it,' Cobb observed, 'and why we can't possibly replicate it in ... what, five days now? It's just not viable.'

'Perhaps, but I know you'll try your best.'

The smirk that had been absent the whole time they had been discussing the job was now firmly back in place, reminding Arthur of just who they were dealing with. The way Cobb and Denley had conversed – with Arthur chipping in details when necessary – had been almost like old times, when the three of them had worked together as a team, and a very successful one at that. But whilst Cobb seemed to have reigned in his resentment somewhat during that time – all in the interests of passive cooperation – Arthur had simply sat there, for the most part silently, taking in every aspect, every idiosyncrasy of the men around him. He observed the way Denley's hand strayed to his hip when he was agitated about something, resting his palm on the butt of the pistol he made no effort to keep hidden. He watched as Browning paced around the room, never without his phone or a cigar in one hand, casting wary glances over the four men in the middle – Yusuf was lying on a chair, contributing very little to the discussion due to his condition. He tracked the movements of Denley's subordinates as they wandered aimlessly about the warehouse, his acute hearing picking up on their grumblings and inane banter. He noted with particular interest that one of them kept nodding off in a chair when he knew that Denley's attention was focused elsewhere, only to jolt awake whenever one of his associates walked over to kick him in the shin. Every detail was stored in his mind, locked safely away for later analysis. It all helped to create a bigger picture, one that was slowly forming in his mind's eye.

'You've been unusually quiet for a long time now,' Denley remarked, staring at the Point Man. 'Don't tell me – you're still pining for her company, aren't you?'

'Go to hell,' Arthur muttered.

'Oh, come now. Can't we have a civilised conversation, between friends? For old times' sake? I know you and I never saw eye-to-eye, but that's all in the past. I have to say, your description of how you escaped that second layer impressed me, bland though it was. Your previously nonexistent imagination seems to have finally awoken. Or maybe that was just a one-off?'

Arthur rolled his eyes and pursed his lips, determined not to give Denley the satisfaction of riling him again. Besides, he had more important things to think of right then – such as just how he was going to persuade their jailers to finally wake the two sleepers up. For his plan to work, he needed every member of the team available and alert – that much he did know.

'Is it really necessary to keep them under still?' he asked, nodding his head at Eames and Ariadne. 'It's really not good for their minds. It's dangerous, and ultimately pointless. What's there to gain from doing it?'

Denley moved closer to the people in question, his eyes roving over the two slumbering figures and Yusuf as he placed one foot on the bottom of the Chemist's chair. 'It's just a taster,' he began, looking over his shoulder at Arthur. 'A preview, if you will, of exactly what you can expect should you disobey us. As I'm sure you've gathered by now, we're not only capable of inflicting serious physical pain on you all, but mental, too. By now they'll be going crazy down there; they'll have lost track of time completely and be wondering whether they'll ever break out. If they were in Limbo, they would have already given up, accepting it as their reality and thus losing their minds. They would be nothing more than vegetables on the outside, something akin to coma patients. All matter and no substance.' His mouth curved into a crooked smile as he detected the contempt behind Arthur's blank facade, the cold fire that burned in his eyes. 'I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say, it's a fate worse than death. And nobody wants that, do they?'

'I wouldn't be so sure,' Arthur breathed, so softly that only he could hear.

Denley frowned – had he seen the Point Man's lips twitch? – and opened his mouth, but was cut short by the sound of a car pulling up outside the warehouse. One of his suited men hurried to unlock the door in time for three others to troop in, dragging another behind them. Arthur didn't need confirmation from Browning's lackeys as to who it was; his lined, distinctly Oriental face was unmistakable.

'Finally!' Browning grunted as he strode over to the small group. 'What the hell took you so long?'

'It was ... difficult getting him out of the country, sir. We had to convince his company that he was ill and needed immediate treatment before we could get him on the plane.'

'Whatever, I don't care. Just leave him here and join up with the others. I want a constant watch on Robert in case he decides to pull any more stupid stunts.'

'Yes, sir.'

With a quick nod at their boss, the men disappeared again, leaving Saito and Browning standing alone. The Japanese businessman looked unharmed, at least physically. His eyes, however, seemed to roll in his head, unable to focus on anything in front of him. He swayed on the spot, and almost collapsed onto Browning before the American threw him a disgusted look and moved a safe distance away.

'They've drugged him,' Denley pointed out as he examined the drowsy man. 'To stop him causing a scene, I suspect.' He motioned for one of his men to take care of him. 'Lie him down, and wake him up. Splash some water over him, slap him if you must. Just make sure he's fully-conscious in half an hour.'

The man nodded and grabbed Saito by the arm, pulling him over to the bed Yusuf had occupied not so many hours before. Arthur followed them with his eyes, trying to glean as much information as possible from their movements, though it was admittedly very little. _Everything helps, _he reminded himself. Every detail, no matter how small, would help him to paint his picture, to complete the mental jigsaw that was his ever-expanding scheme.

'So, we're all together at last,' Denley said, drawing Arthur's attention back from the corner of the room. 'How nice. However, the emotional reunions will have to be put on hold until we're all _awake_.'

Arthur barely had time to contemplate his words before the Extractor marched over to the small table on which the PASIV device rested and pulled another small briefcase out from underneath. _Where did that come from?_ It hadn't been there earlier, of that he was certain. His sharp eyes had raked over every inch of the warehouse in the past twenty-four hours, and not once had he seen anything that even remotely resembled a briefcase – besides the PASIV, of course. He watched with interest as Denley rolled the two combination locks and opened the case with a 'click', pulling out two tiny vials of clear liquid.

'What's that?' Arthur asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.

Denley flashed him a small smile as he bent over Eames. 'You'll see.'

Everyone was now watching the Extractor's slow, steady movements, his hand poised over the Forger's head. Daubing a few drops of the fluid onto a piece of white cloth, he placed it over Eames' nose and waited for him to inhale. He took a few steps backwards and began to observe the effects along with the rest of them.

Arthur stared in wonder as Eames began to twitch; first his fingers, then his hands, and finally his legs. It was like watching an epileptic patient have a mild seizure, and he found he couldn't possibly look away. The fit lasted only a few seconds before the Forger's body became limp once more.

Arthur nearly jumped out of his seat when Eames sat bolt upright, his eyes wide open. He looked around the room, his head sliding from side to side as he took in his new surroundings.

'What the hell?' Arthur muttered as he pushed himself off his chair and took a few steps towards him. 'How did you do that?'

'It's what we like to call an anti-sedative, for lack of a better term,' Denley explained. 'It neutralises the effects of the sedative and wakes the subject up almost immediately, though it takes longer depending on the strength of the narcotic in question.'

'You couldn't have done this before?' Arthur demanded angrily.

'And ruin the fun? Oh my, no. I told you, you need to see the lengths we are prepared to go to. To ensure your full cooperation, you understand. I said I'd wake them when the time was right, and so I have.'

'What the ... bloody ... '

Arthur looked down at Eames as he began to mutter and rub his eyes. He appeared, for all intents and purposes, as though he had just woken from a very vivid dream – which was, of course, not too far from the truth.

'Eames?' Cobb said slowly, speaking for the first time in nearly half an hour. 'You okay?'

The Forger raised his head to look at the man, blinking several times as he tried to focus his gaze. A grin broke out on his face when he finally recognised his colleague.

'Cobb!' he cried, pushing himself to his feet. 'God, am I bloody glad to see you.' He tried to take a step forward, but lost his balance and ended up staggering back onto the lawn chair. 'Jesus, what the hell ... ?'

'I wouldn't move for a few minutes, if I were you,' Denley said as he threw the empty vial into the nearby bin and raised the other level with his eyes for inspection. 'You've been under a long time. We wouldn't want you to fall on that pretty face of yours and earn yourself a few more bruises, would we?'

Eames blinked again and stared up at the man standing above him. It took a few moments for him to identify the Extractor; the effect was instantaneous when he did. His bemused expression vanished, only to be replaced with a controlled fury Arthur had never seen in the Forger before.

'Denley, you goddamn son of a bitch,' he hissed, getting to his feet again. 'I should have known _you'd_ have something to do with this. What are they bribing you with this time?'

'Your words wound me,' Denley drawled. 'As a gambling man I'd have thought you would understand better than most the lure of big money. It makes the world go round, as they say. Can I help it if people are willing to pay me ridiculous sums for doing something I love?'

Eames snorted. '_We_ love our job,' he said, taking in his colleagues with a quick sweep of his arm. 'You're just a thieving scumbag who'd kidnap his own grandmother for a quick buck. You're a disgrace to the profession.'

'Coming from a man who forges his own poker chips and steals the secrets of businessmen the world over for a living. We're no different. I'm just better at negotiating the price.' He turned to look at Cobb and Arthur, glancing between the three men as he spoke. 'I mean, isn't that why we're all here? You got caught trying to influence a man's mind in the most intimate, contemptible way possible. And you have the nerve to question _my_ motives and actions? Your hypocrisy knows no bounds.'

'At least we don't go round kidnapping children and beating people to complete the job,' Arthur spat. 'I wouldn't be surprised if some of them have mysteriously 'disappeared' over the years when something went wrong.'

'That would imply failure on my part,' Denley replied. 'And you should all know by now, I _never_ fail.'

None of them heard the sharp footsteps on the concrete until Browning was standing right in the middle of the group, a cigar hanging from his mouth and a frown on his face as he glared at them. 'All right, break up the goddamn reunion. We've got work to do, in case you've forgotten. Five days and counting.'

He tapped his watch as if to emphasise his point and moved away again, leaving a tense silence behind him. The four men glared at each other, neither speaking a word. Seeing them all standing there brought back memories Arthur had tried hard to forget over the years. He felt the hairs prickle on the back of his neck, his hand straying to the opening of his trouser pocket as he closed his eyes against the onslaught. _Deep breaths,_ he intoned. _Deep breaths._ One day – he vowed – one day soon.

'As pleasant as this catch-up has been, we should really be moving on,' Denley said, finally breaking the wall of silence that had sprung up between them.

The other three watched as he stood over Ariadne's lifeless body, the second vial of anti-sedative in his hand. Arthur took an unconscious step towards them as Denley placed the wet cloth over her mouth and nose and waited for her to breathe in. She reacted the same way as Eames had, her limbs twitching as the drug worked its way into her system. The fit stopped just as abruptly, her body flaccid once more.

The moment seemed to stretch on into minutes as her three colleagues watched and waited, for the moment when she would return to them.

Arthur was by her side the minute her eyes flew open.

**A/N: So! What do you all think so far? I welcome constructive criticism as well as praise. How's the pacing of the story? Characterisation etc.? I'm starting to wonder if it's dragging slightly, whether the last few chapters have been a little less exciting/interesting than previous ones. But then I always have been overly-critical of my own work (artists, eh? Can never win with them!) So I'd love to hear your thoughts on the direction this is taking.**

**I'm also thinking I should attempt to change the summary of the story, as more than half of the chapters have been from Arthur's POV so far, so it's a little misleading! If anyone thinks they can do better with it, by all means let me know. I'm terrible at them - not enough words to use, you see! That's my excuse.**

**Rest assured for all those curious - you shall find out the backstory of the foursome very soon (perhaps even in the next chapter if it all goes to plan), and the story will revert back to Ariadne once more. At least for a little while. Poor Arthur needs a rest - all these mini emotional outbursts of his must be quite exhausting. ;)**

**EDIT: I forgot to say! For anyone who likes the Inception soundtrack and hasn't already seen this, check my profile for a link to the free bonus tracks the company have released. Don't see why they just didn't put them on the soundtrack itself, but never mind. They're pretty good, but mostly similar to some of the others. Still, an extra two songs can only be a good thing!  
**


	21. Chapter 21

**21.**

Ariadne felt her heart race as she snapped open her eyes. _Another dream?_ She sat motionless for a few moments, trying to steady her ragged breathing and work out where the hell she was this time. It looked vaguely familiar, like a place from a half-forgotten dream. But where?

She was dimly aware of someone whispering in her ear, soothing words that sent a wave of déjà vu crashing over her.

'It's okay, you're all right. You're okay.'

Ariadne blinked to clear her blurred vision and turned her head to the left. She nearly jumped out of her seat when she found Arthur kneeling down next to her, his hands resting on the arm of the lawn chair, his dark eyes searching for her own.

' ... Arthur?' she murmured. 'Why are you talking?'

It was an absurd question – to anyone who had not been sharing her most recent dreams. That Arthur had been silent, never uttering a word even when spoken to. His expression had never changed, even when shooting people dead; it was cold, hard like his eyes. As though there was nothing to him but lethal reflexes and a deadly trigger finger.

But this Arthur ...

_His_ eyes were soft, kind as they bore into hers, as though searching for an answer to some deep-seated question. _His_ expression was full of concern, not blank like white marble.

_This_ Arthur had to be a dream, too. The _real_ Arthur had never looked at her in such a way.

'Ariadne, you're back,' Arthur said, his fingers inching toward her elbow as it rested on the arm of the chair. 'You're not dreaming anymore.'

Ariadne stared at him, trying desperately to comprehend the words that were coming out of his mouth. Of course she was still dreaming. She had accepted that long ago – she was never going to _stop _dreaming. She looked away from the new Arthur and found Eames, standing a few feet away to her right. They were all here, just like before.

'Ariadne, look at me.'

_Cobb?_ No, that couldn't be right. He wasn't supposed to be there. It was just the three of them, like always.

'Your totem,' Arthur murmured, his breath tickling the small hairs in her inner ear. 'In your pocket.'

Her hand reached into her pocket before she knew what she was doing, obeying the irresistible note of command in the Point Man's voice. She felt the cool, smooth metal beneath her fingers and pulled it out. But she didn't test it. She didn't want to know the answer, the one she knew she would receive if she tried to topple the small chess piece. She had pushed it so many times, but it never fell. Not once.

'Test it,' Arthur whispered.

She could feel his breath on her neck, could smell his aftershave as he leant closer to her. She inhaled the appealing aroma, marvelling at how near he was. She could so easily reach out and touch him, should she feel the urge. She didn't think she had ever been close enough to smell him before. Even when she had kissed him, in a dream so long ago, she didn't remember noticing such a pleasant scent. _CK One,_ she thought with a smile. Her favourite.

And that was when she knew.

Her fingers trembled around her totem as she looked at Arthur once more, examining his face, his eyes, the frown lines on his otherwise smooth forehead. His aftershave drifted over to her again as she breathed in, seeming to clear her head.

With a shaky hand she placed her bishop on the small table next to her and pushed.

'Oh my God,' she muttered as she watched it fall. 'This isn't a dream ... '

'Well, I'm glad we finally got _that_ sorted.'

Ariadne started at the sound of the voice; rich and deep, one she had never heard before. She looked up, scanning the room for its owner. She saw the smirk before she noticed the crop of blonde hair and black suit.

'It's nice to finally talk you in the _real_ world,' the man said. 'Ariadne, is it? What a charming name.'

Ariadne felt her chair shift slightly as Arthur gripped onto the arm. She glanced at him as he stood up and found no trace of the anxiety she had seen before. His eyes were empty once more, and she wondered if she hadn't been dreaming, after all.

'Once Saito is ready we'll press on,' the man continued. 'Unlike the rest of you, I'm very busy and haven't got all day to discuss the matter at hand.'

Ariadne stared at him as she tried to wrap her head around just what the hell was happening. She was in a warehouse, that much she could tell. In Paris? It certainly _looked_ like the same one. But ... the chairs were different. The one she was currently sitting on was a pale green, not white like they had been before. And the door was on the opposite wall.

'Gunther, what's taking so long?' the blonde man shouted, making her jump again.

'I'm sorry, sir, but he hasn't recovered enough,' someone else called back from the far corner of the room. 'He's still drowsy.'

The blonde let out a frustrated sigh and cracked the knuckles of both his hands. The sound reverberated through Ariadne, making her cringe. She had always hated people doing that.

'We'll just have to do this without him,' he said, looking at the others standing around him. 'It won't take long. You all know what we're expecting of you by now.'

Ariadne sat in silence, wondering just how long she had been kept dreaming. She seemed to remember Arthur telling Eames and her that 'they' wanted to know how the team had performed the Inception on Robert Fischer. But who were 'they'? She glanced around the room, her eyes finally finding someone else she recognised besides her colleagues. _Browning._ Yes, Arthur had mentioned him. So who was the blonde man?

'Robert will be making his announcement on Friday morning,' Browning said gruffly, blowing out a puff of smoke from the cigar he clutched in his hand. 'So we need to get to him before he goes to sleep on Thursday night.'

'Thursday?' Cobb said. 'But that gives us even less time to figure it out. I'm telling you, there's no way – '

'Yes, we all know what _you_ think, Cobb,' the blonde cut in. 'And _you _know that you still have no choice in the matter, if you want to see your children again.'

A terrible silence descended over the group. Ariadne thought she could hear her own heart beating in her chest as she sat there. She willed it to stop, for someone would surely hear it soon enough and turn to look at her.

But she was worrying over nothing. Everyone's attention was focused on the blonde; Arthur was standing as still as a statue beside her, his right hand gripping the opening of his trouser pocket, turning his knuckles white; Eames was staring at the stranger, his face unusually devoid of any expression; Yusuf was lying in one of the other lawn chairs, looking mildly confused; and Cobb ...

Ariadne hadn't seen Cobb so furious since the first layer of the Inception, when he had ripped into Arthur for failing to spot the fact that Fischer had undergone training against Extraction. She really thought he was going to pounce on the blonde man and tear him to pieces. And she was surprised to find that the thought frightened her, despite all she had been through with him.

'I'm sorry, did we not mention that we had a tail put on them after you left the house?' the blonde said, stroking his chin in mock thoughtfulness. 'Hmm, I'm sure we did.'

'You're bluffing,' Arthur growled, his voice completely at odds with his ever-pristine appearance.

'You better hope so.'

Browning took a step forwards and cleared his throat, throwing a glance at the man that managed to look both nervous and annoyed. 'Anyway, back to business. You now have four days to prepare.'

'The idea needs to take a hold in his mind before he makes the announcement to the media,' the blonde continued, as though nothing untoward had happened. 'Which is why we can't do it on the Friday morning. He would likely still stick to his original plan and break up the empire, even though he would start to doubt his decision. Doing it the night before gives it time to ferment in his mind, eroding the damage you did before, and making him believe it actually _was_ a dream when he wakes up in his own bed.' He paused, taking in the others as they watched his every move. 'Now, Browning and I won't be back until Thursday afternoon, but that doesn't mean we won't know what you're up to. My men will be here in our place, and will be checking in with me every few hours. We also have the warehouse wired with CCTV, and someone watching over it twenty-four-seven. If you even _think_ of trying to escape, I'll know about it. And I don't think I need to remind you just how ruthless I can be when pushed.' Another pause as he allowed his words to sink in. 'Just in case that doesn't deter you, my men have been ordered to shoot to kill if any one of you tries leaving here without permission. Not to mention the other ... _added_ incentives.'

Nobody said a word. The tension was becoming so unbearable it was all Ariadne could do to stop herself from screaming, just so she could break it. She could feel the urge welling up inside of her, forcing its way up her dry throat and fighting to get past her clenched teeth.

'I think that's all,' Browning said with a sidelong look at his colleague. 'I expect everything to be ready when we come back.'

'Until then,' the blonde said, mimicking a soldier's salute. 'Happy hunting.'

The two men departed with three of their lackeys, leaving the group to stare after them. Ariadne still wasn't sure what was going on. She felt so far out her depth – even worse than when they had performed the Inception. At least they'd had a plan then, something she could stick to and follow through to the end. Even when things had gone wrong, her logical mind had come up with a solution, calming her with the knowledge that it wasn't real, that she would get out eventually. But here ...

This was reality. And there was no escaping it.

'That fucking piece of shit!' Cobb roared as he kicked the nearby bin, sending it flying into the wall.

Ariadne jumped out of her seat as the remaining three men aimed their guns at Cobb, startled by his sudden outburst. They held them there, level with his head, until Arthur marched over and placed his hands on his partner's shoulders.

'Dom, look at me. _Look_ at me.' Cobb did so, and Ariadne flinched at the hatred that burned in his eyes. 'We can do this. I _know_ we can do this. I think I've got it figured out. Come Thursday, we'll be ready.'

Cobb seemed to visibly relax as Arthur spoke, though whether because of the Point Man's words or something deep in his eyes, she couldn't tell. But she realised, in that moment, how much trust he had in his partner. She had always known how much respect Arthur had for Cobb, how much faith he put in him, but had never seen it reciprocated until now. It made her feel better, somehow. Safer, as though simply perceiving the deep bond they shared made her trust them with _her_ life, too. Right then, she wouldn't have wanted anyone else.

Arthur turned back to the rest of the group and rubbed his hands together. Ariadne could see the determined glint in his eyes, the same one she had noticed when he had been rigging the hotel room with explosives in the second layer of the Inception. If anyone could find a way out of the mess they were in, it was him. Everything hinged on the little details – and details, as he had told her many times before, were his speciality.

'Right,' Eames chipped in, speaking for the first time since Ariadne had awoken. The resolution that shone through in his voice, through that one word, calmed her even further. 'Where do we start?'

**A/N: Okay, so I know I promised you the backstory of the foursome in this chapter, but it turned out longer than I had planned. So, I've decided to cut it off there and continue in the next one instead, which I will hopefully have up tonight when I get back, provided I'm not back too late. I hope this was one was all right though, and the return to Ariadne's POV wasn't too jarring! There will be some more substantial A/A content in the next one, assuming it all goes to plan ... this time. I shall do my best. :)**


	22. Chapter 22

**22.**

Ariadne had not moved in nearly three hours when Eames wandered over to her chair and perched himself on the edge. He looked at her for a few moments, taking in her pale face and heavy eyelids, before speaking.

'Arthur wants us to go under with him,' he said quietly, glancing at the three armed men strolling around the warehouse. 'Do you think you'll be up to it?'

Ariadne considered his words, looking down at his hand as he patted her knee. _Did_ she think she could do it? She wasn't sure. It had been a whole day since they had been left alone by Browning and the other man; a whole day since she had finally woken from the nightmare of those endless dreams. She didn't know whether she could handle the thought of going back in so soon.

'It's okay if you can't,' Eames said, reading her troubled expression like an open book. 'I'll tell him you're not ready.'

'No, don't. I'll – be fine. Really.'

She ignored the sceptical look he gave her. She _wanted_ to do it – for everyone, not just her. How could she sit on the sidelines while the rest of the team worked hard to find a solution to the mess they were in? She _had_ to help, in whichever way she could. And that meant doing whatever Arthur wanted, no matter how hard the request.

'Ready?'

Ariadne looked up to find Arthur standing next to the PASIV device, uncoiling three of the tubes. She nodded and swallowed past the lump that was stuck in her throat. She hated feeling so uncertain, so ... frightened. It was unlike her; she was usually so confident, in herself, in her abilities. But things had changed so quickly. The elation she had felt after completing the Inception had soon evaporated, leaving behind a huge void. First the emptiness had set in, the overwhelming sense of loss when she had thought she would never see these remarkable men again, would never share her dreams with them, nor get to construct _their_ dreams. Now it was fear, pure and simple; the fear that she wouldn't get out of this alive if they screwed up, that at any moment she could be shot – or worse, be killed in a dream and sent to Limbo. She had to trust these men – closer than acquaintances, but not intimate enough for friends – to deliver her from the hell they had all found themselves in. Despite their show of confidence, she knew they were as worried as she was. Well, almost.

'Why aren't we all going in?' she asked, noticing that Cobb, Saito and Yusuf had made no move to join them around the PASIV.

'No more than three at a time,' Eames said with a sigh. 'Denley's _orders_, according to his goons over there. Probably worried we'll hatch a plot to kill him or something,' he added with a dark chuckle, though Ariadne noted the almost hopeful tone to his voice.

_So that's his name: Denley._ She was certain she had never heard of him before. But the way the others spat his name out when they spoke of him, the glares they had been giving him before he had left the day before – she got the impression that this was not _their_ first encounter with the man.

Ariadne started at the sound of Saito's chair legs scraping the floor as he stood up and approached them, his dark suit creased from wearing it for two days on end. He threw the PASIV a disgusted look before turning to Arthur.

'I hope you're not planning on actually fulfilling their request,' he said in his accented English, watching Arthur uncoil the tubes with some disdain.

'We don't have much of a choice,' Arthur replied without looking at him. 'You heard what they said, what they'll do if we _don't_.'

Saito turned slightly toward Cobb, who was still talking to Yusuf a few metres away from the small group. Ariadne felt her stomach knot – not for the first time – as she took in the Chemist's bruised face, though she noted that his eyes were less swollen than they had been. _That's something, at least._

'Mr. Cobb, do I need to remind you of our previous arrangement?' Saito said, his frustration evident in his strained voice. 'As much as it would pain me to do so, I can just as easily reverse it.'

Cobb looked up at the Japanese businessman, his jaw clenched. 'Like Arthur said, we don't have much of a choice. They're holding my kids hostage, for Christ's sake. They've got Yusuf's daughter, too. And _they'll_ turn me in to the cops if I _don't_ do as they ask. What to do you honestly expect me to do here?'

'I _expect_ you to stand up for what you believe is right,' Saito retorted. 'Personal sacrifices must be made if one is to achieve – '

'Cut the bullshit, Saito,' Cobb interceded, standing up to look him in the eye. 'You and I both know your reasons for not wanting to go ahead with this are selfish, just like mine are. Just like all of us. We're doing this because we _don't have a choice_ – not if we want to hold on to what's most precious to us. So, I'm sorry, but if that means you don't get to be the biggest energy company in the world, it's tough. I have more important things to think about right now. Turn me in if you want, but as long as my kids are okay, I don't care what happens to me.'

He turned away from Saito and stalked into the small bathroom at the other end of the warehouse, leaving the others to contemplate the tense silence around them. Arthur had stopped unwinding the tubes and was looking at Saito's back, appearing to study him, weighing up his options.

'Don't be too hard on him,' he said quietly. Saito turned toward the Point Man, and Ariadne could see the deep apprehension cut into every wrinkle of his face. 'He's just doing what he thinks is right.'

'And what if it is wrong?'

Arthur shrugged. 'The lines between right and wrong are rather blurred in our line of work, as I'm sure you've noticed by now. We don't work on morals – at least not the same ones that most people do.' He paused, holding Saito's gaze with his own. 'But I promise, things will be fine in the end. As soon as this is over.'

Again, Ariadne watched as Saito seemed to relax under the weight of Arthur's words. She wished she could see his eyes when he spoke – there had to be _something_ there that was calming the others down, some unspoken truth deep within that none of them could question. She wanted to feel the same comfort wash over her, relieving her of the almost unbearable tension she was feeling. Perhaps she should kick off and question their actions just so he could do the same to her ...

'Okay, let's go,' Arthur said shortly, turning away from Saito to sit down in one of the spare lawn chairs. Ariadne watched as he slipped the needle into his wrist, then motioned for Eames and her to do the same. 'I'll be the dreamer this time. Eames, I want your subconscious filling it.'

Ariadne took his words as a snub – why didn't he want _her_ subconscious in his dream? Did he not trust hers? She frowned as she looked up at his familiarly impassive expression, but didn't get the chance to voice her indignation before he pressed the release button and the world around her faded into darkness.

**A/N: I know, I've lied again! Well, not quite. I didn't mean to, I promise! I had to cut this into two chapters as it was getting too long - again - but the A/A stuff I promised will be in what is technically the second half of the chapter - i.e. Chapter 23. But I'm off out now, so will try to write and upload it tonight if I can get it finished. If not, then definitely by tomorrow. Please, be lenient with me. :(**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Okay, I'll admit it ... I got it wrong, again. This 'chapter' is now split into no less than three parts. Sort of. I cut this one in two again, but on the plus side I'm uploading them at the same time, so it's not too bad. :) Hope you enjoy them!**

**23.**

Ariadne was surprised to find herself standing in the middle of what appeared to be a park, the sun streaming down on her face as she looked around her. It seemed like your average park – wide, open green spaces; clusters of trees here and there; benches dotted along the concrete path; and a small pond in the middle with various birds drifting on the surface of the water, jostling for the pieces of bread that small children were throwing in. She heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of the other people – _Projections,_ she reminded herself – walking around her. She never thought she would be glad to be surrounded by projections in a dream, given what they were capable of, and yet here she was.

She glanced around her a few times, trying to spot Arthur and Eames, but with no luck. She shrugged, figuring they had to be around somewhere, and settled onto the nearest park bench to wait.

It was oddly soothing, sitting there and watching the projections around her enjoying their (presumed) day off in the park with their families. If she didn't know better, she would have thought she was spending a lazy Sunday afternoon taking a leisurely break from her college work in a Parisian park. She gripped onto the totem in her pocket as the thought flashed across her mind. _Stop thinking like that,_ she reproached herself. _It's too dangerous to go down that road._

She continued to observe those around her, constantly reminding herself that none of it was real, that they were all a part of Eames' subconscious. She wondered why Arthur had chosen a park as the setting, whether it had any special significance to him. She couldn't picture the Point Man in his crisp three-piece suits, ambling through such a picturesque setting. He would seem so out of place among the families and casually-dressed students that usually inhabited such a location.

She felt her heart skip a beat as she thought of him. Her mind made the unwilling connection to the 'dream' Arthur she had spent so much time with recently; the image of his blank face and empty eyes popped into her head, and she couldn't shake it no matter how hard she tried to think of something else. She found herself wishing that he had actually spoken to her during those hours – or was it days, months, years? – she had been dreaming. Perhaps he could have told her something about the 'real' Arthur, his background, just some small detail about him that didn't pertain to his job.

'I just want to get to know him a bit better,' she muttered to herself as she stared at the sun's rays reflecting off the surface of the rippling water. 'Is that so much to ask?'

'Be careful what you wish for, darling. It just might come true.'

Ariadne whipped her head around to see Eames standing behind her. He walked around the side of the bench and took a seat next to her, following her earlier example of gazing out into the distance.

'What do you mean?' Ariadne asked, unsure whether she wanted to hear the answer.

'I mean just that: be careful. You might not like what you find.'

Ariadne had barely taken in his words when the sound of sharp footsteps made her look around. She would have recognised those shoes anywhere.

'Good, you're both here,' Arthur said as he stopped in front of them.

'Looks like it,' Eames said, making a show of checking that both Ariadne and he were, in fact, present. 'So, what's this all about? How is a park going to help us perform another Inception on Fischer?'

'It's not,' Arthur replied simply.

Ariadne frowned; she was sure Eames was doing the same as they both looked up at the Point Man.

'So what on earth are we _doing_ down here?' Eames asked as he stood up. 'Don't tell me you fancied a break from that stuffy warehouse with your two favourite people?'

He gave Ariadne a quick wink, but she hardly noticed. She was trying – and failing, as usual – to read Arthur's pokerfaced expression, attempting to figure out just what the hell he was up to.

'Eames, please, this is serious,' Arthur sighed. 'I need to talk to you both, and down here is the only way I can do it without Denley and his men knowing about it. They can't keep a check on what we do in the dreams.'

'It's odd he didn't think to send one of his men in with us whenever we hooked up,' Eames agreed, stroking his bearded chin. 'They're probably petrified of going under with Ariadne in case 'Arthur Mark Two' shows up and blasts them into oblivion again.'

Ariadne tried not to react as he let out a hearty chuckle and sent her another wink, but she could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment under his scrutiny. The last thing she wanted was to be reminded about her cold-hearted dream protector, particularly in front of the real thing.

'Denley probably realises that their presence would disrupt our planning of the Inception,' Arthur replied, showing no sign that he had heard Eames' last remark. 'He knows we have limited time to prepare for it, and just has to trust that we won't do anything 'stupid', like try to double-cross him. He has enough leverage on his side to think that.'

'True,' Eames said with a nod. 'The cowardly bastard has always gone through others to get what he wants. He's got no backbone.'

'Be that as it may, he still holds all the cards. For now.'

Ariadne snapped her head up to look at Arthur, replaying his words in her head. Apparently Eames had noticed, too, judging by the slight frown on his face.

'So you _do_ have a plan then?' the Forger asked, an enthusiastic edge to his voice that Ariadne had not heard in a long time.

'Yes,' Arthur admitted without looking at either of them. 'But it's going to take a lot of thinking through. And down here is the only way I can discuss it with you. It's going to be tricky, though. We can't come down here all at once because of Denley's orders, and it'll look too suspicious for me to be going under every time. As incompetent as they are, Denley's men will realise something's wrong eventually. So we need to be discrete about it.'

'Don't we always?' Eames said with a grin. 'So, shoot. What are you thinking?'

To Ariadne's dismay, Arthur shook his head at the Forger and turned to look out across the water, his gaze fixed on a point in the distance. 'I haven't thought it all through yet. I need to be sure on certain details before I discuss it with everyone. I don't want to get it mixed up when someone else needs to convey it to the others.'

Ariadne thought she saw Eames' shoulders slump at Arthur's words, but he rallied his spirits almost immediately. He stretched his arms out in front of him and smiled down at her – and was that another wink? It was brief, almost too quick to miss, but she was sure she had seen it.

'Well, I'm going to take a stroll while we have a chance to stretch our legs. This sure beats being cooped up in that prison.'

Ariadne was going to point out that their dreams were really just a prison for their own subconscious, but decided against it. She didn't want to ruin his good mood now that he had finally cheered up again. It was nice to have the old Eames back, if only whilst in the dreamscape.

'Eames, this isn't the time to go wandering off,' Arthur cautioned, turning his attention back to the Forger. 'We're not here for pleasure.'

'Always one to spoil a man's fun, eh Arthur?' Eames chuckled. 'I won't be long, promise. Just once around the pond, that's all I'm asking.'

Arthur let out an exasperated sigh and nodded, dismissing his colleague with a wave of his hand. Eames didn't need telling twice; he was off before Ariadne had the chance to ask if she could join him. She watched as he strode off down the path without so much as a backward glance at them.

As she sat there, trying not to look up at the Point Man hovering in front of her, she couldn't help but be reminded of the last time she had been alone with Arthur – both the 'real' and the 'dream' one. She had been so angry at him when she had turned to find him standing in the middle of the airport, practically pleading with her not to get on the plane – if Arthur ever did such a thing. Her encounters with the 'dream' version had not been much better. She cringed as she thought back to those times, appalled at her behaviour now that she had the chance to analyse it properly. She had always hated the 'damsel in distress' trope, the hapless woman in need of a man to save her from the big, bad villains. And yet she had fulfilled the role perfectly in the dreams, unable to do anything but watch as the ruthless Point Man had taken out each 'bad guy' that had tried to get anywhere near her.

She had never _needed_ Arthur's protection before – nor anyone's, for that matter. Sure, dream-sharing was a completely new, surreal experience, and it had its fair share of dangers. She wasn't naive; she understood how bad things could get if they weren't careful – their present predicament was a perfect example of that. And emotionally ... well, Dom and Mal had demonstrated the risks _that _entailed.

'_Don't go. Please, don't leave. You promised ... you promised to protect us, to protect _me_.'_

She recoiled from the memory, wrapping her arms around herself as though to squeeze it out of her. _That_ had been a moment of weakness. She had given in to the fear, to the very real possibility that she could end up stuck in a dream forever, passing from one to the next without ever experiencing the real world again. She had been so relieved when the _real_ Arthur had finally shown up, had clung to the promise of reality that he had brought with him, the faint hope of an escape from the nightmare. As the dream had collapsed around them, taking her chance of a return back with Arthur – she hadn't been able to let go, to accept that she would ever have another opportunity to break out.

In the cold, harsh light of the warehouse she had seen just how pathetic she had seemed. She wondered what he thought of her now, after seeing her at her lowest point. Did he think less of her for it? Did he respect her less for showing such a base emotion, for opening her heart and letting the fear, the despondency pour out? In that one moment, had she really _needed_ him to protect her – not only from the dilemma they were in, but also herself?

Of course, the real question was – did she _want _him to?


	24. Chapter 24

**24.**

Ariadne looked up and was surprised to find Arthur now sitting beside her. She hadn't seen him move, so caught up in her own thoughts as she was. He had his hands folded in his lap, his eyes still trained on the horizon. She wondered if his thoughts were anything like hers. The idea that they were made her fidget in her seat. She hoped he would forget that brief interlude in the dream – and with any luck never mention it again. This was Arthur, after all. If it didn't pertain to the job at hand, he would likely not discuss it. For once she found she was grateful for this side of his personality.

'Penny for your thoughts?' she said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. Arthur gave her a quizzical look. 'It's something Eames said to me once,' she added quickly. 'I mean, you don't have to actually tell me everything you're thinking. Just, you know ... if you want to ... '

She mentally kicked herself and pursed her lips to stop herself from rambling further. _Way to go. That's _really _going to get him talking._ And she really wanted to take the opportunity to get to know him a little better, if such a thing were possible with Arthur – though she wasn't sure why she had the sudden urge to do so.

Arthur said nothing for a few minutes, but she could feel his eyes on her as she resolutely stared at the group of ducks floating on the pond.

'I'm just trying to get everything sorted in my head,' he said finally. 'I find this is a good place to sit and think things through.'

'You've been here before?'

Arthur nodded. 'I often come here when I need to be by myself, to mull over certain things. Usually when there are others around up top. I can't think straight with too many people around.'

'It's beautiful,' Ariadne murmured, watching as a mother duck and her ducklings waddled over to the edge of the water, then slid in and drifted away.

'Thank you.'

Ariadne tried to fight against the impulse to ask him more questions, ones she desperately wanted to know the answers to. He seemed so much more relaxed here; he had even dropped the tie and waistcoat for this dream, opting instead for black trousers and a white shirt with its sleeves rolled up. She smiled; it was as casual as she would ever see Arthur, she was sure.

'Can I ask you something?' she said, unable to help herself as she took in his calm appearance. Arthur seemed to hesitate before nodding his head once. 'What's the deal with you guys and Denley?'

Arthur stiffened at her words, the muscles in his forearms tensing as he deliberately avoided her gaze. 'What makes you think we know him?'

'Come on, Arthur. I'm not stupid. Anyone could tell there's history between you, the way you all look at him.'

The Point Man sighed and closed his eyes. Had she gone too far, pushed her luck just that bit too much? She hadn't been able to stop herself. She just _had _to know.

'You know, there's other ways to find out. I could always pull a Cobb on you and just barge into your dreams.'

She tried to make it sound humorous, but her desperation to know shone through her jokey attitude. Arthur seemed to withdraw from her words, as though she had burned him with a hot iron poker. She sighed, trying to resign herself to the fact that she would never find out the things she wanted from him.

'We used to be a team,' Arthur said after a few minutes, opening his eyes again. 'Dom, Denley and I.'

'What about Eames?'

Arthur shook his head. 'That was later. Back then it was just us three. Denley was an Extractor, too, but like Dom he was also a gifted Architect. After what happened with Mal, Dom just stopped building the dreams. I've never been as good when it comes to the designing. I can do something simple like this, but we needed someone more experienced for the jobs.'

Ariadne was surprised at his admission of a weakness in his work, but said nothing. She was enthralled already, thrilled that he had finally decided to confide in her, even if it _was_ still related to the job. She had the feeling that almost anything to do with Arthur would inevitably be connected with his work in some way. It was just who he was.

'At first things were great. There was no better team of Extractors in the world. We made a lot of money in those few months, and an even bigger reputation. But Denley ... got greedy. He changed, so slowly we didn't even realise what was happening until it was too late.' Arthur took a deep breath; every word seemed to cut deep into him, and Ariadne suddenly felt terribly guilty for asking him about it. 'There had always been a rivalry between Dom and Denley, right from the start. They were both exceptional in their fields, but Dom had the edge over Denley. He was the more creative one, thinking up fantastical ways of completing each new Extraction. The Mr. Charles gambit was his invention. Denley couldn't stand being second best, so he tried to push for harder jobs, wanting to prove that he was just as good. We did our first two-layer Extraction with him months before we were hired by Cobol to perform one on Saito.'

Ariadne sat there, engrossed by the Point Man's story. She didn't even notice the odd sidelong glance from the passing projections. Her eyes were fixed on Arthur's pale face, desperately trying to catch each hint of emotion as they flickered across his features.

'The job was a failure,' he continued, his voice now flat, devoid of any sentiment. 'We had to use a mild sedative to make sure the dream would be stable enough. It was the first time we'd done anything like it, and we were too cautious. Just as we were about to break into the Mark's safe and steal the information we needed, Denley turned on us. He pulled out his gun and waited until the Mark – Mr. Cavendish – showed up for his nightcap. And then ... he shot him. Sent him to Limbo.'

'But I thought Cobb was the only person who'd been to Limbo? With Mal?'

Again Arthur shook his head, his hands now clenched into fists on his lap. 'He was the only one out of the team. But Cavendish was the first – and only – one that I know of. We'd all heard the rumours before, including Denley. We knew what Limbo was. And he deliberately sent Cavendish there, for no reason other than pure spite. He wanted to get Dom back for all the times he'd shown him up, for being better than him. The dream started to collapse soon after, but Denley was gone by the time we woke up. Cavendish was left comatose, and we were the prime suspects in his 'assault'. The doctors couldn't explain why he had suddenly fallen into a coma, and no-one was ever charged over it. As far as I know he's still in a hospice. His family won't give up the hope that he'll wake up one day. And he will, eventually. But he won't know who the hell they are, or even his own name. He'll have forgotten everything that makes him ... him.'

Arthur stood up abruptly, the sudden movement jolting Ariadne from her stupor. She watched as he walked away from her toward the railings that enclosed the pond. She hesitated, wondering whether to leave him be, before following suit and joining him by the water. He was staring across the pond again, his arms resting between the gaps of the railings. Ariadne said nothing; she simply stood beside him, waiting for him to continue should he want to.

'Eames was the one who helped us hide out afterwards,' he said quietly, his lips hardly moving as he spoke. His words seemed to slip effortlessly from his mouth; Ariadne was fascinated by the small observation. 'He'd worked with Denley before, and had grown quite close to him, I believe. As close as two people can be in our line of work. They're two very similar people in a lot of ways, though he wouldn't admit that now. He couldn't accept what we were telling him at first. But he gradually came around. I think this is the first time he's come face-to-face with him since then, just like Dom and I.'

He stopped and blew out a long breath, his shoulders sinking slightly. The confession seemed to have taken a lot out of him. Ariadne wanted to reach out to him, to thank him in some small way for what he had done, but she found she couldn't move. She was rooted to the spot, stunned beyond words by his tragic tale. Now she knew why they all looked at Denley with such hatred in their eyes. It wasn't just because of what he was putting them all through in the present, contemptible though it was. They already had reason enough to detest him. She felt sick to her stomach as she thought of the man, a smirk contorting his face when he had looked at her. She had never understood how one person could be so wicked towards his fellow men.

They had been standing in silence for a few minutes when Arthur turned his head to look at her. Ariadne felt her heart wrench at the incredible sadness in his eyes, the anxiety etched into every line of his face.

'Tell me,' he began, his voice low. 'Why was I in your dreams?'

Ariadne stared at him, lost for words. This, she had not been expecting. She had hoped he would never mention it, would forget the whole experience. Then again, she hadn't been the one who had been killed by a mirror image of herself. It wasn't something one could dismiss so easily.

'I ... don't know,' she said truthfully. 'I was as surprised as you when I first saw y – him.'

She felt her cheeks burning under his unrelenting gaze, wondering for the umpteenth time that day where her usual self-confidence had gone. She missed it in situations like this.

'He just turned up and killed Denley's men every time they tried to share a dream with you?'

Ariadne nodded. She thought she saw Arthur's grip tighten on the railing as he resumed his inspection of the horizon in front of him.

'Is that all you see me as – just a mindless killer?'

His voice was strained now, the words seeming to stumble out of his mouth rather than flow as they had done. Ariadne wanted to say so much to him, to tell him how wrong he was. But she couldn't. She could only summon up the courage for one word.

'No ... '

'Then what?' he asked, turning his piercing stare on her again. 'Ariadne, I don't understand. I can't – '

He shook his head, as though trying to clear his mind of whatever thoughts were bothering him. But Ariadne never found out what he couldn't do. The sound of hurried footsteps behind them made her turn around. She was surprised to find Eames jogging toward them, and wondered how she could have forgotten about him.

'Sorry to interrupt, but I think we have a problem,' the Forger said, pointing over his shoulder.

Arthur moved away from the railings and began to look around them, his eyes seeming to take in every detail of the dream. 'The projections,' he muttered. 'They've cottoned onto me.'

Eames nodded. 'I don't think we've got much time before they start attacking. They're already giving you filthy looks whenever they walk by.'

Arthur sighed. 'I didn't even get the chance to explain to both of you. Never mind, it'll have to wait until next time.'

He reached around his back and pulled a gun from his waistband, much to Ariadne's surprise. She hadn't spotted it before, though she supposed she hadn't been looking at his back at all. She felt her knees weaken as she realised what Arthur had in mind.

'Eames, you first,' he said.

The Forger nodded again and took a few steps backwards. Arthur raised the gun and pulled the trigger within seconds. Ariadne squeezed her eyes shut at the sight of Eames' lifeless body; she still hadn't become accustomed to such a gruesome sight. Arthur turned to her next, his arms hanging by his side as he looked at her, waiting for her assent.

She took a deep breath and nodded, quickly, wanting more than anything for it to be over. She could see the projections now, closing in on them as they began their search for the dreamer.

'_They're searching for the dreamer. Me.'_

Ariadne blinked against the memory that flashed through her mind. That had been the last time she had shared a dream with Arthur in which the projections had turned on him. As nervous as she was, she couldn't help but smile.

'_Quick, give me a kiss.'_

Arthur raised the gun level with her forehead, waiting again for her approval. She found it odd that he had shot Eames without a second thought, and yet seemed to hesitate with her. She wondered if he were thinking of the _other_ Arthur and the ease with which _he_ had killed in front of her. She wanted, again, to reassure him, to tell him that it was okay. But she couldn't find the right words.

So she said the first thing that came to her mind. 'I trust you, Arthur.'

And so she did. With her life, no less.

With one last look into her eyes, Arthur pulled the trigger.

**A/N: Me again! So, what do you think? Sorry for the long expositions in these last two chapters, but it's been coming for a while, so I'm not surprised. Now we can move on to the next bit - Arthur's plan! Yes, he really does have one, I promise.**

**As for Arthur himself and those wondering why he's acting so differently around Ariadne - the poor guy's been through a lot, he still doesn't know exactly what he feels for her. It's one thing to get angry and emotional when she's asleep, protecting her honour and getting outraged on her/others' behalf. But it's a totally different kettle of fish when he's actually speaking to her face-to-face. Let's not forget what happened the last time he did that, way back in the hotel/airport! How many of us can say we'd act in the exact same way when the person in question is right in front of us?**

**Anyhoo, it's 3am here and I promised myself I wouldn't sit up and write these chapters tonight/this morning. Never mind! I hope it'll be worth the sleep deprivation. :)  
**


	25. Chapter 25

**25.**

Ariadne kept her eyes closed for a few minutes after she awoke, replaying everything that had just happened again in her mind. She still couldn't quite believe how much Arthur had told her. Perhaps he was the sort of person that, once the flood gates were open, there was no stopping him; perhaps he had been wanting to tell _someone_ about it, to let it all out after bottling it up for months. Whatever the reason was, she felt grateful, and in some way honoured. Arthur was certainly not the kind of person that went around bleating his secrets to any and everyone. It touched her that he had chosen her, of all people, regardless of the – _slight_ – pressure she had put him under. He could have ignored her if he had wanted to, told her to mind her own business. But he hadn't – and that made all the difference in the world.

Ariadne jumped as she felt someone's fingers wrap around her wrist, the touch soft, gentle. She opened her eyes to find Arthur bending over her, easing the needle from her vein as he set about packing up the PASIV. She noted with some frustration that he refused to look at her, choosing instead to stare at the tubes he was now winding around his hand. Why was it he could relax around her in a dream, but couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye once back on the surface? Did he already regret telling her everything? The idea stung her. She gripped the arms of the lawn chair as she watched him, waiting for him to turn back to her.

But he didn't. He spent an inordinate length of time carefully packing away the PASIV, his hands working slowly – far too slowly to be convincing.

'Arthur,' she said, keeping her voice low so as not to draw the attention of Denley's goons. 'Arthur, will you just look at me?' He acted as though he hadn't heard her, though she could tell from the clench of his jaw that he had. 'Arthur, for God's sake, will you just _stop _that for one goddamn minute?'

He paused, his hands poised over the silver case of the PASIV. But still he refused to look at her. Ariadne swung her legs over the side of the chair and leant closer to him, staring up at the side of his face, willing him to turn toward her.

'Why won't you look at me all of a sudden? Did I do something wrong?'

Arthur closed his eyes for a long moment and sighed. 'No, of course not.'

'Then what the hell is going on? You can't have a conversation like that with someone and then just ignore them afterwards.'

Arthur let his arms drop to his side, but still offered no explanation. She felt her impatience increase with every moment of silence that passed. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had been looking at her with nothing but concern and sorrow in his dark eyes mere minutes earlier. Now he was back to being the coldly efficient Arthur she had hoped was gone for good. _He's like a damn schizophrenic,_ she thought irritably.

'I'm sorry,' he said finally, dropping onto the lawn chair next to hers. 'This has nothing to do with you. It's not personal.'

'The hell it isn't,' Ariadne snapped. 'You don't act like this with the others. They all relax after one look at your face. But me? I just get more annoyed.'

Arthur met her angry gaze with a sympathetic one of his own. 'I promise you, it's nothing to do with you.' _There he goes with the promises again_; he seemed to be doing a lot of it lately. 'I'm just ... trying to keep things together here. Everyone's relying on me to get them out of this. I can't afford to mess up again.'

Ariadne said nothing. She considered Arthur's candour with some discomfort – it wasn't like him to confess his concerns. He was usually so cool, so confident in his ability. Perhaps the events of the last few days had knocked everyone's self-assurance, not simply hers. It was a strange thought, to know that even Arthur – the virtually infallible Point Man – harboured doubts about himself. It unnerved her somewhat.

'It still doesn't explain why you're behaving like this. You're not responsible for everyone here, you know. We're all adults. We have to work together to get out of this.'

Arthur shook his head, but didn't reply. She wished she could see into his mind, to know just what it was he was thinking. She noticed the circles under his eyes had darkened since she had last seen him at the airport; he looked exhausted, something she had never observed before. He always seemed so alert, ready for anything. But now ... it was as though he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and she wasn't sure he was strong enough to bear the burden. Not alone, at least.

'You blame yourself, don't you?' she said quietly. 'For everything that's happened.' He said nothing; only looked at her with those dark eyes of his, that managed to be both expressive and inscrutable at the same time. 'It's _not_ your fault,' she insisted, reaching out to take his large hands in hers. She wanted to smile when he made no move to stop her. 'I know you have some crazy idea that it's your job to protect everyone all the time, but you've got to let it go. You can't _do_ everything. Not alone.'

'Ariadne, you have no idea what my job is,' he said, staring down at their hands as he spoke. 'I failed in my duties after the Inception. I'm just trying to make amends now.'

'But you don't have to do it _alone_. We're all here. We're all in this together, just like the Inception. We're a _team_. Just because you couldn't trust that asshole Denley, doesn't mean you can't put your faith in others again. You'll burn out if you try to take on everything yourself.'

Arthur nodded slowly, still seeming to study her hands as they grasped his. After a few moments he extricated his right hand and reached into his pocket, pulling out his totem and rolling it around in his palm. Ariadne watched the movement for a while, mesmerised by the ease with which he wove it through his fingers. She had often wondered why he had chosen a die as his totem, but had never had the courage to ask. Perhaps now, when his previously impenetrable guard seemed to be slowly dissolving, was the best opportunity.

'Can I ask you something?' she said, aware that she had uttered the same words not so long ago. To her relief he nodded, his eyes still trained on the small red cube. 'Why did you choose that as your totem?'

Arthur paused in his activity and closed his fingers around the die, as though to shield it from her. She felt a pang of disappointment when he pulled his other hand from hers. She had gone too far this time.

He raised his head to look at her, the same sadness she had seen in the dream dwelling deep in his eyes. 'Cavendish,' he said simply, seeming to force the solitary word past his lips.

Ariadne stared back at him, contemplating his short answer. She didn't know what to say.

'He was a professional gambler,' Arthur explained, gazing back at the die in his now-open palm. 'We were hired to find out whether he was cheating the casinos in Vegas. He was the best they'd ever seen, and they resented the success he had.' He paused, clenching his hand into a fist around the die once more. 'It's a reminder of what could happen should I lose myself in the dreams, of just how dangerous our job is. If I ever end up in Limbo ... '

He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. Ariadne knew what he was thinking – he didn't need to explain it further. The die would serve as a reminder of what had happened before, of what he could not afford to let happen again. It would ensure his sanity in an insane world, so that he never lost sight of himself in the most perilous of all dimensions – the raw, infinite subconscious that was Limbo.

Ariadne was struck by the complexity of the man before her. Just when she thought she was getting somewhere with him, was beginning to understand him, he turned around and surprised her yet again. He appeared to operate on a switch, alternating between the cold, efficient Point Man she was so used to, and the softer, more vulnerable man sitting so close to her now. At times she felt at home in his company, as comfortable with him as she was with her friends back in Paris. They had conversed so easily during their training sessions together all those weeks ago, moving from Penrose Steps to paradoxes, from dreams to reality. But he was so changeable; inviting and approachable one minute, cold and distant the next. She never knew quite how to act around him. He would offer her the hint of friendship with one hand, stealing a kiss from her at the most inappropriate of times, and then slap her with the other, hiding behind his sense of duty and principles before she even had the chance to consider his proposition. He had confided in her within the confines of a dream moments after snubbing her in the real world. What on earth was she meant to think?

She rubbed her forehead with her hand as she fought against the onslaught of her own thoughts. She didn't want to think about her complex relationship with the Point Man – it hurt her head to even try – but she couldn't stop the questions that flooded her mind.

'Arthur?' She waited until he looked up at her, making sure she had his full attention before continuing. 'Do you trust me?'

Arthur frowned. 'What kind of question is that?' Ariadne made no answer, only waited for his. 'Of course I do. You're a part of the team, I trust you all.'

'Then why did you ask Eames to fill your dream with his subconscious and not me?'

She realised how childish she sounded, like a jealous sibling fighting for the attention of a parent. But she had to know. The thought had niggled her throughout his dream, though she had tried hard to ignore it. He seemed more willing to talk now, and she wanted to take full advantage of his change of heart while she had the opportunity.

'I would have thought it was obvious,' Arthur muttered, pursing his lips into a thin line. 'I didn't want _him _to show up and jeopardise the time we had.'

Ariadne didn't know what to say. Whatever explanation she had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this.

'But ... he only showed up with Denley's men. When – I was frightened, or something. When I felt threatened.'

'He shot me, too, in case you've forgotten. The first time I went under.'

Ariadne felt her gut wrench as she remembered the incident – how could she have forgotten? But it hadn't been the same. She trusted Arthur – she would never feel endangered in his presence. She _couldn't_ ...

'That ... was different,' she said, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. 'I was confused. I thought it was a trick. I thought they were trying to manipulate me to get what they wanted. It wasn't until the second dream that I knew it was really you.'

She stared at him, willing him to understand, to accept her feeble explanation. Arthur stood up, slipping his totem back into his pocket as he looked down at her.

'You know I would never hurt you, don't you?' he said quietly.

Ariadne could see his jaw muscles tensing as he waited for her answer. He seemed the picture of patience on the surface, but she noticed the uncertainty in his dark eyes, the fear that she would refute his statement.

She followed his example and stood up, wishing she were that much taller so she could look him straight in the eye. 'Of course I do,' she replied, trying to convince him not only with her voice but with her eyes, too, just like he had done with Cobb and Saito. 'There's no-one I feel safer with, Arthur. I trust you with my life.'

_I always have,_ she added, wishing she could say it aloud. But her spoken words were enough. She fancied she could see the tension seep out of his body as he took in her answer. He nodded once, twice, and – was that a ghost of a smile that passed over his lips? She returned the gesture, the corners of her mouth twitching ever so slightly. It was done; she had finally managed to clear the air with him. She was far from knowing everything about him, but it was a start. They could move on from here. _One step at a time._

Ariadne started at the sound of someone coughing from behind Arthur. He turned, affording her a glimpse of Cobb standing over his shoulder, watching them with a curious expression on his face.

'Eames said you were ready to talk,' he said to Arthur, his gaze flicking to Ariadne for the briefest of moments before returning to his partner.

Arthur nodded. 'I need you and Yusuf for this one,' he said, the traces of his previous uncertainty all but gone from his voice.

He was back to being the consummate professional, and Ariadne couldn't say she was too disappointed. As relieved as she had been that he had finally shown some sign of human weakness, that he had opened up and let her glimpse the emotions she had known he must feel, she knew that he was much more comfortable in his role as the team's organiser. They could depend on him to sort things out, no matter how tough the situation.

But this time, he wasn't going to do it all alone. This time, they would all share the burden. She would prove how capable she was. She _had _to, if they had any hope of pulling off Arthur's mysterious plan.

One thing was certain – it was going to get a hell of a lot more interesting from here on out.

**A/N: Whew! More A/A for you - you just can't stop me once I get going, it seems. But the last line is true, I promise - I really do! Things certainly will get more interesting from here. In the next chapters - the gradual revelation of Arthur's plan. I had to get all the pseudo-angst out of the way first, you see. ;)**

**Anyhoo, I hope it wasn't too much after the previous two chapters of exposition. But at least Ariadne has finally got her wish, getting to know the ambiguous Point Man that little bit better (don't we all want that? :P) And Arthur - well, the poor guy doesn't know what he wants, as usual. It's all new to him, this half-confessing-his-feelings lark. So be easy on him. :)**

**See you soon for the next chapter! Likely when I get back from work tomorrow, if I have the energy. 12.30am now, 6am start ... not the best beginning to another work day, but I'll survive! Hope everyone has a great day themselves, anyway.  
**


	26. Chapter 26

**26.**

There was a near-tangible sense of excitement pervading the warehouse over the course of the next two days. It was muted enough so that Denley's men wouldn't suspect anything, but Ariadne could feel it, like an electric charge in the air around her. Cobb and Eames seemed far more enthusiastic than they had been forty-eight hours earlier; Yusuf was now joining in with the conversations of the others, appearing to forget his own pain in order to help them; even Saito had stopped glaring at Cobb and Arthur whenever they happened to walk by. In fact, if Ariadne wasn't mistaken, he seemed as eager as the others to set Arthur's plan into motion. They all appeared to know exactly what was going on; all except _her_, that was.

She had tried to ask Arthur about it numerous times, but he had dismissed her with the excuse that Denley's men were too close.

'I'll discuss it with you when we next go under,' he had whispered the last time she had opened her mouth to speak to him. He had begun to anticipate her question before she had even uttered a single word. 'Not here. It's too risky.'

Every time, Ariadne had folded her arms across her chest and stared at his retreating figure, a mixture of impatience and frustration bubbling away inside of her. Had he already disregarded everything she had said to him in their last proper conversation? Surely he wasn't foolish enough to do such a thing a second time? She _wasn't_ going to be left out, not when everyone else looked so happy to be helping. It really must be something good to get Saito off his chair and out of his black mood.

Her mind made up, she marched over to the table where Arthur and Cobb were working, talking in low voices and glancing up every now and again to make sure that their jailers weren't listening in.

'Arthur,' she said, standing right between the two men. 'I need to talk to you.'

'We're in the middle of something. Can't it wait?'

'No, not really.'

She noticed the soft sigh that escaped his lips as he stood up; it only irritated her further. What did she have to do to make him behave normally around her? Whatever 'normal' was for Arthur. She was beginning to wonder.

'Yes?' he asked once they were standing in the far corner of the room, away from the others.

'Are you going to tell me what's going on or not?' she demanded, fixing him with a determined stare.

'I already told you – '

'I know what you said. But you've been back under with everyone else, except me. I just want to know what the hell's happening. Is that so much to ask?'

Arthur dropped his head slightly, shaking it as he looked down at a spot on the concrete floor. He seemed to be deliberating something, torn between two decisions. _Is he really going to tell me?_

'I _will_ tell you,' he said, as though reading her thoughts. He met her gaze again, seemingly unperturbed by the exasperation he surely found there. 'Just not yet. But I will ask you to do something for me.'

Ariadne opened her mouth to protest yet again, before realising what he had said. 'Yes? What is it?'

'I need you to design a maze for me. A circular one, if possible. Denley needs to reach the middle _alone_. He needs to be separated from anyone who might be accompanying him.'

Ariadne stared at him, puzzled. '_Denley's_ going to be in the dream as well?'

Arthur nodded; Ariadne fancied she saw his eyes darken, though it could have been the dim light in the room. 'Yes, he'll be there. He just doesn't know it yet.'

Ariadne frowned at him. It wasn't like him to be so cryptic with his explanations, nor so ominous. She was about to ask him to elaborate further when his attention was diverted by Cobb, who was gesturing for him to return to the table.

'Start working on that maze for me,' he called back at her over his shoulder. 'I'll come and check on it later. Remember, we don't have a lot of time.'

Ariadne sighed and gave up, accepting defeat. She wasn't going to be finding out anything from Arthur until _he_ decided the time was right, as usual. But at least she could _do _something, could feel useful again rather than waiting and watching from the sidelines.

A new sense of purpose washed over her as she made her way to the other side of the warehouse to collect the materials she would need. She was still annoyed with the Point Man and his reluctance to tell her anything, but her lecture could wait until later.

She had work to do.

**A/N: This chapter's a little shorter than usual for the same reason as before - the next one ended up being too long so I decided to cut this one short. Never fear, though! The next chapter shall be uploaded momentarily. Enjoy!**


	27. Chapter 27

**27.**

Ariadne enjoyed the feeling of holding a pencil in her hand again, more than she had ever thought she would. She felt her spirits soar as she threw herself into her work, focusing all of her energy on the large piece of paper beneath her fingers. She hadn't been given much information to work with, but she made do. _A circular maze. One Denley needs to get deliberately lost in._ She racked her brains, trying to decide what setting to use. Did it even matter? Arthur hadn't told her to use a specific location, such as a restaurant or hospital. He hadn't even said Denley needed to be familiar with it, to be fooled into believing it was a dream. If he was anything like the others, he would know he was dreaming straight away. It was what they had trained in, after all; it was their job to know the difference between the dreamscape and reality.

She settled for simple city streets. That way she could block off certain areas with dead ends; cul-de-sacs, roads-under-construction, and so on. Denley would have no choice but to follow the only path available to him, whilst any companions he had would be cut off elsewhere, trapped in the inaccessible sections of the maze. She assumed somebody else would take care of them, one way or another. _The dreamer could always change the scenery, block them off with extra walls,_ she mused. But that would only work if the dreamer could see them all the time; it would also alert the projections to the foreign nature of the dreamer.

She shook her head and dismissed the thought. It wasn't her place to be thinking about such things. Her only priority was building a maze good enough for Arthur to use, for whatever purpose he saw fit.

She was so absorbed in perfecting her draft that she failed to hear the soft footsteps approaching her, coming to a stop inches behind her.

'Looking good,' a voice whispered in her ear.

Ariadne jumped, dropping the pencil onto the table with a clatter as she whipped her head around. Arthur was standing there, peering over her shoulder at her design. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck as he exhaled, though she could no longer smell his aftershave as she had the other day. It disappointed her, for a reason she could not fathom.

'I'm not entirely sure on certain points,' she said, looking back at her illustration. 'I mean, Denley doesn't need to be fooled like a Mark, does he? He's going to know he's dreaming.'

'Of course. All Extractors train to recognise when they're not in reality. It's a priority on the job, for obvious reasons.'

'Okay, that's fine. But then, won't he realise what we're trying to do? He won't fall for the trick for very long. He could just ... not bother to follow the maze to the middle.'

'That's true. But he just needs to follow it long enough, so try not to make it too complex. We just need to get him to the centre.'

'What – '

Arthur's hand on her back cut her short, the slight pressure enough for her to understand the meaning. She turned her head slightly to see one of Denley's men strolling toward them and felt her heart begin to beat faster. They were forever looking over their shoulders, checking to see whether his goons were within earshot before starting up a conversation. The others had spent more and more time working through Arthur's plan with the help of the PASIV, somewhere Denley's men couldn't overhear them. But they couldn't do it all the time; it would look too suspicious. Ariadne's task was innocuous enough that she could work on it without fear of discovery. It was, after all, the design for the Inception. They just didn't know that their boss would be a part of it.

'That's great,' Arthur said loudly, staring at her sketch again. 'We should be able to corner Fischer here and begin the Inception thereafter. Good work, Ariadne.'

His last words were sincere, she noticed with some pride. He was genuinely pleased with her efforts, particularly given the limited time she had had to work on the design. She felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth at his faint praise and continued to look at the paper on the table.

Arthur waited until the man had passed by before he slid his hand from her back. She felt the area quickly turn cool and wished he had left it there. She heard him rustling around in his pocket before he pulled something out and offered it to her.

'This is yours,' he said simply as she took the small nylon bag from him.

Ariadne frowned up at him as she held it, but he only nodded once, a gesture for her to continue. She slid her fingers over the smooth fabric before pulling the drawstring open and reaching inside. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she looked down at the familiar red piece of cloth.

'Where did you get it from?' she breathed, rubbing the scarf between the fingers of her right hand.

'It was left behind for me at the airport,' Arthur replied stiffly.

'Oh.'

Ariadne understood the implication immediately. _One of Denley's men must have dropped it for him to find,_ she thought, feeling her stomach knot at the flashes of memories that pierced her mind's eye. A strong pair of hands grabbing her from behind just as she entered the toilets; a damp cloth clamped over her mouth and nose; her desperate attempts to free herself, before everything turned dark. She remembered – her last thought had been of Arthur, of him waiting for her at the coffee table. As absurd as it sounded, she was glad one of the men had left her scarf for him. At least he would have known that she hadn't simply upped and left him. It was ... strangely comforting to know.

'Thanks,' she said quietly, staring down at the small piece of clothing once more.

There was really nothing else to say. She dared not look up at him. She didn't want him to guess what she was thinking, and he surely would if he looked into her eyes. She had been having a hard time hiding her emotions lately, particularly from the astute Point Man now standing mere inches from her. And it was only getting more difficult with each day that passed.

Ariadne watched as a pair of hands entered her line of vision and took the scarf from her. She offered no resistance as he slid the fabric from between her fingers and lifted it to her neck. His hands brushed her skin as he reached around to tie it, sending a sharp thrill down the length of her spine. She forced herself not to look at him, but she couldn't help concentrating on the feel of his fingers as they grazed her skin, his hands working slowly as they knotted the scarf at the back of her neck. She felt her heart pounding fit to burst in her chest and took a quick breath in.

'There, that's better,' Arthur said softly, letting his hands drop to his side as he stood back to admire her new accessory. 'Back where it belongs.'

Ariadne nodded silently, suddenly aware of the new scent invading her nostrils. It was her scarf; it smelled of ... _Arthur._ The same aftershave she had missed earlier. She smiled as she inhaled, discreetly enough not to let him know what she was doing, but deeply enough so that the pleasant aroma filled her senses. It was still her favourite, she decided. There was no changing _that_.

Arthur's head snapped up at the sound of the warehouse door being pulled open. Ariadne turned around to look, too, and watched as Denley's other men filed into the room, dragging what looked to be suitcases behind them. Arthur was striding toward them before she even had a chance to wonder what on earth they were doing.

'What is this?' he demanded, waving a hand at the identical cases.

'Denley's orders,' one of the men said as he stopped before the Point Man. 'These are all yours.'

'Ours? You mean our own ones that we had before?'

The man nodded. 'Denley said it'd be one less distraction for you while you work. He thought you might be a bit sick of staying in the same clothes each day.'

The smirk on his face reminded Ariadne of their boss, and she fought against the sudden urge to walk up to the man and wipe it off again. She watched instead as Arthur bent over one of the suitcases and unzipped it, casting a cursory glance over its contents. He stood up and looked at her over his shoulder.

'I think this one's yours,' he said. 'There should be a change of clothes in each of them, the things we packed for the flight from Sydney.'

Ariadne couldn't help herself; she fairly ran over to the case in question and rummaged inside, almost laughing with relief when she found the other outfits she had packed. She was sick of sitting in the same clothes every day, even though she had made sure to shower at least twice a day in the pokey bathroom in the far corner of the warehouse. It just wasn't the same without a bar of soap, some deodorant, and most importantly, a change of clothes.

'I'm going to ... go take a shower then,' she said as she zipped her case back up and started to drag it toward the bathroom. 'I won't be long.'

She didn't even wait to see whether anyone else wanted to do the same. She was the only woman on the team, after all; she had priority where such important matters as grooming were concerned.

She closed the door and locked it as soon as she stepped foot in the bathroom, heaving a sigh of relief as she thought of how much better she would feel in thirty minutes' time. She wasted no time in turning the dial on the shower and hopping in.

She was – almost – true to her word. A little over half an hour later she was back out of the bathroom, freshly cleansed and feeling infinitely better about herself. It was odd what a hot shower could do to one's spirits, she decided. After brushing her teeth a little more vigorously than was necessary, she slipped into a new pair of jeans and fitted T-shirt, tied her scarf back around her neck – noting with some disappointment that the scent of Arthur's aftershave had now all but disappeared – and walked back into the main room of the warehouse. She ran a hand through her wet hair, yearning for a five-minute spell with a hairdryer, and looked around. Only three of Denley's men had stayed behind, as had been customary over the past two days.

As Ariadne made her way back over to the table that was now her workspace, she caught sight of someone hovering nearby, staring at her. She turned her head to look and was less than pleased to find one of Denley's goons, his gaze fixed on her. She slowed down and held eye contact with him until he coughed and began walking in the opposite direction. She shrugged and resumed her trip back to her table, but stopped short when she saw Arthur standing a few metres from her, his eyes boring into the man's back as he made his way back to his two companions. His gaze flicked to her as she approached him, and she saw that his jaw was clenched, his lips pressed together into a thin white line. The look in his eyes sent a shudder through her body as he glanced at the man again, then back at her. His expression softened as she stopped in front of him, though it still retained a hard edge that made her recoil slightly.

'He's been watching you every time you leave the bathroom,' Arthur said, his voice low, flat. 'Every time for the past two days.' Ariadne shrugged her shoulders again, a move that seemed to agitate the Point Man further. 'So you don't mind having a perverted scumbag leering after you each minute of the day?' he demanded, his brow furrowed into an angry frown.

His irritation surprised her. If she was being honest, she hadn't even noticed the man until then. Nor would she have expected Arthur to, despite the fact that he seemed to pick up on everything that happened around him.

'It's not like I can really do much about it,' she replied. 'Of course I'd rather him not do it, but what do you expect me to do – slap him? Not a particularly smart move when they're all carrying guns around with them.'

Arthur stared at her for a few moments, seeming to consider her words. Then, without warning, he grasped her hand and practically dragged her over to the PASIV device. He began hastily unpacking it as she watched, stunned by the sudden change in his behaviour.

'Arthur, what – '

'Dom, I'll need you this time,' Arthur called out, cutting off her confused attempt at a question. 'We'll be taking a look at Ariadne's maze. I need to make sure it's suitable for – Fischer.'

He stooped down and inserted the needle into her wrist before she had a chance to protest. He gripped her arm, firmly yet without hurting her, once again avoiding her eyes. She watched as Dom made his way over and sat down in the chair next to hers, pulling out a tube for himself as Arthur prepared his own.

'Arthur – '

'Yes, I'll explain everything down there,' he said, once again reading what she was going to say before she had a chance to speak. 'I promise.'

Ariadne felt an excitement coursing through her veins that had nothing to do with the tubing that was protruding from her wrist. This was it; he was finally going to tell her what the hell he had been plotting all this time. He had _promised_. Yet another vow he most certainly had to keep.

As had become customary over the last few months, Ariadne lay back in her chair and closed her eyes as a familiar darkness enveloped her.

**A/N: So, here we are at last! Sorry it's taken so long! One thing led to another, and you know how it goes ... Arthur and Ariadne took on minds of their own! I ended up writing more about them than I had intended, but I hope it was interesting nonetheless, and gave a bit more insight into their growing relationship with each other.**

**As I've said before, I've been a little worried about the pace, and haven't deliberately kept you in the dark about Arthur's intentions! Just other things got in the way. But hey, it doesn't matter now, right? For those still reading, I'm glad the story has kept your interest, and hopefully I can reward your patience with a good last third. We're definitely on the build-up to the end here, but don't fear, it won't be over too quickly. :)**

**Lastly, if anyone happens to spot any typos/missing words in sentences/grammar errors etc. in my work, feel free to point them out to me via PM so I can correct them. It's rather infuriating when you triple-check everything, only to notice a mistake when you happen to glance over the published chapter a few days later! Fresh eyes are needed, as usual, and I would be grateful for any assistance along the way. Toodle-pip for now!  
**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Okay, I just felt the need to say something before you start reading this next chapter. It's come to my attention that someone (I won't name names here, but I'm sure they know who they are) has been lifting entire sentences and paragraphs from my story and using it in their own, pretending that they 'wrote it themselves'. Now, I'm all for people taking inspiration from others' work - it's what artists do, after all. But I draw the line at blatant plagiarism, no matter how insignificant the details may seem. It may not be the whole story/plot, or even a whole chapter - but entire paragraphs, and even sentences, are bad enough. As this person is on my story alert list, and assuming that they are still reading the story, I will politely ask them to revise the first chapter of their own in which my work appears. I've worked hard on this for the past two weeks and resent the fact that someone else is trying to claim credit for something I've done.**

**Sorry to start on a sour note, but I felt it needed to be said. Now - on with the story! I hope you enjoy it. :)  
**

**28.**

Ariadne barely had time to take in the fact that she was to be the dreamer this time before she was suddenly standing in the middle of a crowded high street. She immediately backed up against the nearest shop window to stop herself from being swept away with the mass of people jostling along the pavement. She tried to scan the area for any sign of Arthur and Cobb, but it was impossible. As recognisable as the two men were, there were far too many projections around to see clearly.

She closed her eyes and tried to picture the maze in her mind, recalling every road and dead-end she had incorporated into it. Opening them again, she looked around, trying to work out precisely where she was. She spotted the sign for the Tourist Information stand she had included and smiled. _I'm not far from the centre. That must be where the others are._ She had purposefully added the information point, knowing that, when lost, humans gravitated toward the nearest one. Denley would know that he was dreaming, but that didn't mean his natural human instincts wouldn't kick in when confused.

Ariadne started to head in the desired direction, careful not to draw too much attention to herself. The last thing she needed was the projections turning on her before she even reached Arthur and Cobb. She found herself scrutinising each building and signpost along the way, making sure that every detail of the streets was up to scratch. She knew that it didn't need to be authentic enough to fool Denley, but she was a perfectionist when it came to her work; she wouldn't be able to rest if she found even one dustbin out of place. This combination of random artistry and absolute perfection had always served her well. It was, after all, the reason she was top of her class in college. _'Was' is right,_ she found herself thinking with some dismay. Sometimes she missed the relatively low-pressure, risk-free projects of her college degree; though she couldn't imagine giving up the limitless creativity of the dreamscape to work solely on real-world architecture. Not anymore. No matter how dangerous things got, _that_ would never change. She was absolutely certain of that.

She had been walking for nearly ten minutes – dream time – when she rounded the corner of a café and spotted the Tourist Information kiosk in the distance. _This is it – the centre of the maze._ She quickened her pace, scanning the area for her two colleagues.

It didn't take long to find them; both men were standing off to the left of the middle of the large cul-de-sac, hands in the pockets of their suits as they inspected the office-buildings around them. For some reason she didn't bother to analyse, Ariadne began to slow down, walking as softly as she could as she approached them. Something about the way they were standing _–_ Arthur turned slightly away from his partner _– _intrigued her. She could hear their low voices as she closed in on them. Arthur seemed agitated, though she couldn't make out any words from her current distance. She crept nearer, trying to quieten her breathing despite the fact that her heart was hammering in her chest – something that was becoming a rather regular occurrence of late.

'Come on, what's this all about?' Cobb was asking, his eyes fixed on the side of the Point Man's face.

Arthur tilted his head back to look up at the tall building looming overhead. 'I told you, I needed to see how Ariadne's design translated into the dreamscape. It's actually pretty good. A few minor tweaks here and there and it'll be perfect.'

'Don't play dumb with me, Arthur. Something's bothering you, I can tell.' He paused and cocked his head to one side. 'Is it Ariadne?'

Ariadne halted in her steps when she heard her name; she was close enough by now anyway. Any nearer and she risked being caught. _God, I'm like a kid,_ she thought. She was reminded of the times she used to sneak down the stairs of her parents' house after bedtime to watch the T.V. from the hallway; she was always found out within fifteen minutes because she just couldn't keep quiet. _Still, we live and learn._

'Yes,' Arthur sighed, letting his head drop back into its normal position. 'I just ... I don't want her involved in this.'

If Ariadne could see Cobb's face, she was sure he would be frowning by now. 'That's not really an option. We're all in on this whether we like it or not.'

'I know, but ... I don't know how she'll react. She seemed quite cut up after the Fischer job, and this will be much worse. I'm not sure she'll be able to accept what we're going to do.'

Ariadne's own brow furrowed as she continued to listen. What on earth was he talking about? The second Inception they were going to attempt on Fischer?

'She hasn't got a choice,' Cobb said simply, shrugging his shoulders. 'None of us do, if we want to get out of this.'

'I _know_, but – '

Ariadne flinched when Arthur suddenly spun around and stared straight at her; it was almost like a projection, the way his eyes zeroed in on her. Not that there was much else to look at, but still – it made the hairs prickle on the back of her neck.

'How long have you been standing there?' Arthur asked, his voice oddly strained.

Ariadne knew she had no choice but to confess. She took a few uncertain steps toward the two men, focusing on the building over Arthur's shoulder rather than look either one of them in the eye.

'Only a couple of minutes,' she admitted. She saw Arthur's face drop and suddenly felt terribly guilty for not announcing her presence sooner. 'What did you mean, when you said 'this will be much worse'? Were you talking about the next job?'

Cobb glanced at Arthur and, seeing his reluctance to answer, nodded at her. 'In a way, yes. Though ... 'job' is perhaps not quite the word to use this time.'

Ariadne frowned again and looked at Arthur instead, waiting for him to say something. He seemed determined to remain as silent as possible, but he wouldn't get his way – not this time. Not now that he had _promised_ to tell her everything.

'Arthur?' she said, covering the remaining few metres between them. 'You said you'd tell me down here. Well, here we are. So?' Arthur shook his head, over and over. 'Arthur, I _deserve _to know what the hell is going on here. You can't keep me in the dark over this. Not when everyone else knows.'

The Point Man heaved another sigh and began to pace about in front of her, his hands still shoved firmly into his pockets. She watched him turn and walk in a straight line, before stopping and repeating the process. Something wasn't right; Arthur never looked this nervous.

'Before I tell you, I need to know that you won't jeopardise the plan should you not agree to it,' he said with a quick look up at her. 'You have to promise me that.'

'How can you even ask that?' Ariadne replied, more than a little hurt at his seeming lack of faith in her. 'Of course I wouldn't – what a stupid thing to say.'

'You don't know what we're planning yet,' he pointed out.

'And whose fault is that?' she retorted.

Arthur nodded, accepting her indignation as consent. 'Okay, here's the deal.' He stopped pacing and turned to look her straight in the eye; she felt the hairs on her arms tingle, too. 'This maze I've had you design – it's ... more of a trap, really.'

'For Fischer?'

She saw Cobb shaking his head out of the corner of her eye. He turned away from the two of them and muttered something under his breath. Ariadne caught the words 'told her sooner' as he walked off toward the information kiosk, apparently to examine it.

'No, not Fischer,' Arthur said slowly; he seemed reluctant to continue as he watched her every move. 'For Denley.'

'We're ... going to perform an Inception on Denley?' she asked, puzzled.

Again Arthur shook his head. 'No. Ariadne, I ... there's not going to _be_ an Inception. Not this time.'

Ariadne began massaging her right temple as she took in Arthur's words, trying to understand exactly what he was trying to tell her. 'So ... what then? Why are we doing all of this? Building mazes, holding secret meetings in the dream world away from Denley's goons?'

Arthur began to pace up and down again, her words appearing to act as a stimulant on him. He rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath before standing still once more.

'We're going to trap Denley within the maze, right here, in the middle. When he arrives on Thursday with Browning to take us to Fischer, that's when we'll get him. Once he's sedated we'll hook him up to the PASIV and ... well ... '

He trailed off, staring at her as though willing her to understand without making him explain any further. But she couldn't. She was having a hard enough time following his thought process as it was.

'And how do you plan on getting him here? To sedate him?' she asked, more out of a need to say something than anything else.

Arthur chuckled, the mirthless sound sending chills down Ariadne's spine. 'That's the beauty of it. Denley sent us everything we need with our suitcases. Yusuf had hidden some spare vials of the sedative we used for the Inception in the lining of his case, just as a precaution in case we needed more. Apparently his men didn't check our luggage thoroughly enough. I found them there after they left. We need to time it right, to separate Denley from his men before sedating him. Then we'll bring him here.'

'And do what, exactly? Have a friendly chat with him? Keep him here until he agrees to let us go?'

Ariadne thought she saw a flicker of pity in the Point Man's eyes as he let her sarcasm wash over him. It only irritated her further; what was she missing?

'Ariadne ... the sedative,' Arthur said quietly, taking a step toward her. 'Don't you see?'

'You're going to set up more than one layer?' she asked, knowing she was wrong as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

'No, not exactly.' He paused again; Ariadne could see the dilemma playing out across his face. 'We're going to kill him.'

The words were like a slap, snapping her out of her confusion almost immediately. Suddenly it all made sense; the use of the sedative, cornering Denley alone in the centre of a circular maze ...

'You're ... going to send him to _Limbo_?' she breathed, choking on the words as she forced them out. Arthur gave a quick nod in response. 'But ... that's ... you can't! You can't _deliberately _send someone to Limbo! Do you have _any_ idea what it's like down there?'

'Ariadne, it's the only way we can get out of this mess. Until Denley's out of the picture, we're never going to escape.'

'But that's despicable! To stoop to his level ... I can't believe _you_, of all people, could even suggest such a thing after what happened to – '

Ariadne stopped when she caught the dangerous flash in Arthur's eyes. He was angry; of course he was angry. She had effectively compared him to their captor, the vile human being that masqueraded as an Extractor; who was, in reality, nothing more than a sadistic kidnapper who chose to use others to serve his own ends.

'We don't have a choice,' he said between gritted teeth. 'Unless you'd rather attempt the impossible task of a re-Inception of Fischer's mind and wait to be killed by Denley after that?'

'Arthur's right,' Cobb said to her right, making her jump. She hadn't heard him return. 'Denley _will_ kill us, whether we complete the Inception or not. Out of revenge if we don't; and to rid himself of the liability if we do. Once he's got his use out of us, that'll be it.'

'But ... he didn't before,' Ariadne remarked, staring at the two men as though they had suddenly sprouted a third arm each. 'He left you alive after the Cavendish job, right? What makes you think he'll decide to kill you this time?'

She caught the quick look Cobb gave Arthur – clearly he hadn't known about their conversation in her previous shared dream with the Point Man. She found it odd that Arthur had seemingly told his partner everything _but_ that.

'He didn't mean to,' Arthur explained, apparently oblivious to Cobb's pointed looks. 'He had men waiting for us when we woke up, but we managed to get away ... barely. But he won't make the same mistake twice. This time he'll do it himself, I'm sure. Just to be certain.'

Ariadne rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms, so vigorously they began to sting. She couldn't believe what she was hearing; how could she agree to such a plan? Sure, Denley was a lowlife scumbag, but that didn't mean it was _right_ to send him to the hellhole that was Limbo. It was a fate worse than death, one that she wouldn't have wished on anybody. Not even Denley.

'Ariadne, please ... you have to understand, we're doing this because we have no choice.' She cringed at the pleading tone in Arthur's voice; it really didn't suit him. 'If there was any other way ... '

'There's _always_ another way, Arthur,' she retorted. 'You just have to look a little harder.'

She watched as Arthur's jaw tightened, his breathing becoming heavier as he stared down at her. She had pushed him too far this time. But she found she didn't care.

'This is why I didn't want to tell you,' he muttered. 'I didn't want you involved. You're not used to this side of our job. You think we _like_ having to do this? No, just listen,' he said as she opened her mouth to argue. 'You may think dream-sharing is wonderful, exciting, full of infinite possibilities. But you don't understand how risky it is.'

'Of course I do.'

'No, Ariadne, I don't think you do. Otherwise you would see that there _is_ no other way to get out of this. Even _if_ we somehow managed to escape the warehouse and flee to another country, Denley will _never_ rest. He's on some personal vendetta, pretending it's just another job to him, but we know better. He's out for revenge. He can't stand the fact that we got away from him once, and I'm sure he's been building up to this moment ever since. He's a very dangerous man, Ariadne. And he'll only do the same to us if we give him the opportunity. He's sent one man to Limbo already, and he won't hesitate to do it to every single one of us, too.'

Ariadne said nothing. For once in her life she was speechless, unable to string a coherent thought together, let alone sentence. What on earth was she meant to say in the face of such a revelation? She had never even entertained the idea that Arthur was planning on _killing _Denley – at least, metaphorically. In reality he was going to destroy his mind, leaving him an empty shell on the surface, his subconscious trapped until it eventually caved in. How could she ever live with herself, knowing that she had been a willing participant in such a scheme? Fischer's Inception had haunted her enough, but _this_ ... this was far, far worse.

'So this is why the others have suddenly perked up over the last two days?' she said wryly. 'You guys sure do have a perverse sense of what constitutes fun.'

'They realise it's the only option,' Arthur replied, his voice even once more. 'And Eames ... well, he has his reasons, just like us.'

Ariadne narrowed her eyes at the two men, watching as Arthur's right hand twitched in his trouser pocket. She didn't even need to ask what he was doing; he had kept his totem in the same place for as long as she had known him.

'This isn't just about us getting out of here, is it?' she said, looking between Arthur and Cobb. 'This is about revenge. For what he did to Cavendish. For what he did to _you_.'

'We'd be lying if we said he didn't deserve it,' Cobb stated. 'That doesn't mean we'd enjoy doing it, though. We're not sadistic like he is.'

'Yeah, well ... I'm beginning to wonder,' Ariadne muttered before she could stop herself.

She watched Cobb's expression sour as he looked at her, and took an involuntary step backwards. Arthur remained calm as he walked towards her, his expression no longer angry, but rather ... saddened, and perhaps a little desperate. This worried her almost as much as Cobb's reaction. He stopped in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders as he stared straight into her eyes. His voice was soft when he spoke.

'Ariadne, _please _... just _try_ to understand. I hate the thought of involving you in this. If I had my way you wouldn't even be here. I once promised you I'd keep you from harm, and ... this is the best I can do. I failed you at the airport, but I'll be damned if I'll let that obnoxious son of a bitch touch you again. Any of you. What he'll do to us will be far worse if we _don't_ take this opportunity, to stop him once and for all. If he finds out we never intended to perform the Inception on Fischer ... '

The words seemed to die in his throat as he looked at her. But she understood, perhaps better than he thought. Denley wouldn't just kill them if he found out they were trying to deceive him – he would torture them first, both physically and mentally. She only had to picture his eyes, that twisted smirk, to know exactly what he could be capable of, even without the knowledge of what he had done to an innocent man out of sheer malice not so very long ago.

She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat as she opened her mouth in reply, but it was no use. Words failed her. She felt the hot tears streaming down her cheeks before she was even aware that she was crying.

Arthur pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her back as she sobbed into his shirt. If she had been thinking properly, she would have been mortified at displaying such weakness in front of him. But her mind was anything but clear right then, and she gave in to the overwhelming despondency without a fight.

'It's okay,' Arthur whispered into her hair as he rubbed her back with his hand. 'It's all right. It'll all be over by tomorrow night.'

They stood like that until the dream began to collapse around them.

**A/N: Me again! And not so annoyed this time, don't worry! I just wanted to say, I'm not entirely pleased with how this chapter turned out. Perhaps it's because it's so crucial, and you guys have been kept waiting for it for (quite) a long time since Arthur's 'plan' was first mentioned. Whatever the reason, it's the first chapter I've really felt like rewriting from scratch, though I'm not sure how I'd change it. I had ideas in mind for how to make it better, but didn't manage to jot them down and promptly forgot them as soon as I sat down to write. So - this is what came out instead. I also realise it's not the most original idea, but ... hopefully the execution of it will be.  
**

**Do let me know what you think about it, if you feel it isn't quite right, or fine as it stands. I may end up rewriting it if I can think of a way to make it better, but right now, I'm going to leave it and move onto the next chapter. At least if this one isn't so good, nobody will want to 'copy' it. ;)  
**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Okay, so the general concensus so far is that the previous chapter was fine as it is, so I shall leave that for now and concentrate on the subsequent ones. Speaking of which ...**

**Yes, you guessed it! Here's the next one. Enjoy!**

**29.**

Ariadne ripped the needle from her wrist and jumped out of the chair as soon as her eyes were open. She was vaguely aware that her cheeks were wet here, too, but didn't much care. She hurried into the bathroom before anyone could speak to her and slammed the door behind her. Drawing a shaky breath in, she collapsed onto the lid of the toilet and buried her face in her hands.

How had things gone so wrong? A week ago she had been revelling in the still-new, exciting experience that was shared-dreaming. She had been eagerly anticipating the Inception, despite her frayed nerves, not knowing what to expect once they were under. She had been swept away by the intense thrill of creating something she couldn't possibly construct in reality, desperate to try out any- and everything just to stay connected to the world of shared-dreaming. Overcome by her sense of loss after completing the job, she had vowed to do whatever it took to experience it again, just once more, to test her Architectural abilities one last time.

But now ...

All she wanted was to be out of it, to be rid of the dreams forever.

She knew it was her anguish talking, that she was letting her revulsion, her fear influence her decision. But right then, sitting in the pokey little bathroom, fresh tears welling in her red eyes – right then, she knew it would be the right choice. The _sensible _choice.

A soft knock on the door snapped her out of her sorrowful stupor. She hastily rubbed her eyes with her sleeve and coughed to clear her throat. _Please, don't be Arthur_. She didn't think she could bear to face him just yet.

'Yes?' she croaked.

'Can I come in?'

To her surprise the voice on the other side of the door was British. She stood up and opened it to find Eames looking down at her, his expression altogether far too serious for her liking. She took a step back to allow him to squeeze into the small room, trying not to think about how strange the situation appeared.

'I suppose you know what happened,' she muttered, slumping back onto the toilet lid.

'Cobb told me,' Eames admitted. 'Are you all right?'

Ariadne shook her head. 'No, not really. I don't ... I'm not sure I can go through with what Arthur wants to do. It's just ... so _wrong_.'

Eames sighed and squatted down so that he could look her in the eye. 'I know it sounds horrible, but I'm sure he gave you all the reasons why it's the only option available to us. It's self-preservation, nothing more, nothing less. Us or them. You understand, right?'

Ariadne nodded this time. She _did _understand, but that didn't mean she had to be happy with the idea, nor even agree with it. But despite this – despite her repulsion at the very thought of what they had to do – she still trusted Arthur implicitly. If he said it was the only choice ... then perhaps it was. And if Eames, of all people, was agreeing with him ...

'Come on, love. Chin up, eh? Just think of everyone we're doing this for. Think of your professor, Cobb's kids, Yusuf's daughter ... heck, even Saito and his stupid company. I mean, do you really want premiums to go up on your energy bills?' Ariadne looked at him, one eyebrow cocked at his poor attempt at humour. 'No, I didn't think so.'

He offered her a small smile and stood back up, holding out his hand to her. She took it and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

'Don't be too hard on him,' Eames said quietly as he put his hand on the doorknob. 'He's only doing what he has to. And for what it's worth, I think it's a bloody brilliant plan. For a stick-in-the-mud with no imagination, anyway.'

He gave her a quick wink over his shoulder and pulled the bathroom door open. Ariadne took a deep breath, wiped her eyes again, and followed him out. She immediately noticed the eyes of all three of Denley's men, trained on her as she left the bathroom. Arthur's earlier words rang through her mind: _'He's been watching you every time you leave the bathroom.'_ She stared at the same dark-haired man, now realising what Arthur had meant; the expression on his thin face was enough to make her cringe.

'What's up with her?' he shouted at Eames, gesturing to Ariadne with the point of his gun.

'Women's problems,' Eames replied, sounding so sincere even she nearly believed him. 'You don't want to know, trust me.'

Ariadne couldn't help but smile at the nervous glances the men gave her before turning away, clearly determined not to catch her eye again. She slapped Eames on the arm as she hurried to keep up with him, eliciting a sly grin in response. _Of all the excuses to use ..._

The smile quickly faded from her lips as she looked up and saw Arthur standing before her, his eyes raking over her entire body as he scrutinised her appearance. She put a hand up to her red cheek without thinking, wincing when she realised how swollen her own eyes must be, how terrible she must look to the others. Cobb appeared sympathetic; Yusuf slightly bewildered; and Saito somewhat impatient. Sometimes she really hated being the only woman on the team.

'Everything okay?' Cobb asked, looking between Eames and Ariadne. The Forger must have nodded, for Cobb continued without waiting for Ariadne's response. 'All right then. We have the essentials in place. We just need to figure out the timing of it all, how we're going to pull it off.'

Ariadne glanced at Arthur as Cobb spoke, desperately trying to convey an apology of some sort to him. She wanted him to know that she understood; that she knew he only had their best interests in mind; that she trusted him to make the right decision. But he kept his eyes on his partner, never once looking away from Cobb's face. She wondered why he had suddenly taken over; whether Arthur was taking a back seat for a reason, or just allowing Cobb to assume the lead as he was used to doing.

'We just need to get into the dream all together now,' Cobb said, lowering his voice. 'We need a practice run of sorts, just to make sure we all know what we're doing.'

'Yusuf and Saito won't be coming under,' Arthur chipped in, looking at everyone except Ariadne. She felt her heart sink at his obvious unease. 'It'll just be the four of us. Yusuf will be monitoring the PASIV, to make sure nothing goes wrong. And Saito will be there as back up, in case Yusuf needs help and to keep a lookout.'

'I still do not know why I'm even here in the first place,' Saito grumbled. 'I'm of no practical use to you, or them. I'm simply a 'tourist', after all. Am I not?' he added with a pointed look at Eames; the Forger flashed him a sheepish grin in reply.

'Insurance,' Arthur said. 'Denley and Browning need us _all_ here. That way there's no loose ends. You still took part in Fischer's Inception, so you know what happened down there.'

'Even if you _were _semi-conscious or dead for most of it,' Eames smirked, earning a glare from the businessman.

Arthur rolled his eyes before carrying on. 'The maze was near-perfect,' he said, with the briefest of glances at Ariadne. 'It just needs to have a taller building somewhere near the centre. That way it'll draw his' – he avoided saying Denley here, just in case his goons were listening in – 'attention, and provide you with a good spot to look out over the rest of the maze,' he added, nodding at Eames. 'You need to be able to see everything up there since you'll be the dreamer. That way you can change things if necessary.'

Eames nodded in agreement. Ariadne immediately began to change the design in her head, trying to work out where to alter things to suit Arthur's needs. He made a good point about a tall building drawing Denley's focus, and she wondered why she hadn't thought of it before.

'So how are we going to get four of us under with _them_ watching our every move?' Eames asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

'I'll think of something,' Arthur replied, frowning as he looked over at the men in question. 'Right now we need to get the particulars down, make sure we're clear on everything before testing it out. Do you think you could make a quick three-dimensional model and teach the layout to Eames?'

It took Ariadne a few seconds to realise that he was addressing her. Her eyebrows shot up, her mouth forming a small 'o' as she stumbled over her words.

'Oh, er – yeah, sure. I'll ... get right on it, shall I?'

'Please. If you could have it done by tomorrow morning at the latest, that would be great.'

Ariadne nodded, managing to stop the look of disbelief from showing on her face. That gave her less than twelve hours to knock up a full-scale model that usually took her at least three days to complete. She would have protested, saying that it was impossible but for the look in Arthur's eyes. He was depending on her. He _needed _her to finish it on time so that Eames could memorise the design. If something went wrong at the beginning, it would only snowball from there. Her conscience was already racked with guilt – the last thing she needed was the failure of their attempted escape on her mind, too.

'Thank you,' Arthur said. 'I'll come by to check on how it's going throughout the night, if that's all right with you?' Ariadne nodded her assent. 'Okay, this is the last stretch. By tomorrow we need to have everything perfected. I'll work on the last few details tonight, and we'll run through it in the morning.'

The others voiced their approval with various mutterings and nods of the head, before dispersing once more. Ariadne watched them walk away before turning back to look at Arthur. But he had already disappeared, sitting down at the table again with Cobb, no doubt finalising their plan. She felt her stomach churn as she thought about it and forced herself over to her own workspace. She needed to throw herself back into her task if she was to forget about her misgivings and do her bit for the team. They were counting on her.

There was no time to waste.

**A/N: It's getting close now - is everyone as excited as I am? No, probably not, heh. But for those of you wondering where Arthur's POV has gone to - never fear, we shall have our beloved Point Man back soon enough. Though I'm not making promises on when, as you've all seen how bad I am at keeping them! Let's just hope Arthur is better than me ...**

**Again, any typos and whatnot that you spot, feel free to point them out. I've given this the once-over, but it's late here and I need to get to bed (what's new?). I'll give it another look tomorrow and edit it when I get back from work if need be. Enjoy, and goodnight from me!**


	30. Chapter 30

**30.**

Arthur leant back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands as he tried to fend off the near-unbearable feeling of tiredness that was threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so exhausted; nor the last time he had slept for longer than thirty minutes. It was always the same after a job; the sleepless nights, hours upon hours of staring up at hotel ceilings, willing the days to pass so that he could embark on another assignment. He lived for the thrill; of dreaming; of testing his limits with each new Extraction; and of course, of creating worlds that could never exist in real life. Despite the dangers, the frightening risks attached to the job, he just couldn't give it up. He had never looked back since his first shared dream all those years ago.

No, that wasn't quite true. He _had_ considered giving it up entirely, just once – the night after the failed Cavendish Extraction. Knowing what could happen in the blink of an eye, the awfully thin line he was treading every time he entered the dreamscape – the consequences had hit him hard. He had deliberated over his future for the next three days, one minute convincing himself that he would be better off living a 'normal' life with a risk-free job, the next wondering how on earth he could ever survive without the buzz he got every time he hooked up to the PASIV. It was like a drug, a bad habit – one he wasn't sure he would ever be able to kick.

What pained him more, however, was that he could see the same symptoms developing in their relatively young, inexperienced Architect. He knew only too well the incredible highs and lows of the job. But Ariadne ... she was only now beginning to understand the truly terrifying lows that accompanied dream-sharing. Worst of all, he feared it was already too late to save her from becoming an addict, just like the rest of them.

He sat forward in his chair again and looked over at her. She was standing over her work-in-progress, her brow furrowed in concentration, biting her bottom lip as she apparently tried to figure out a solution to her problem. He watched her for a few minutes, admiring the intense look on her face as she absorbed herself in her task. She reminded Arthur of himself in many ways. Once given an assignment, she saw it through to the end, no matter how impossible it might seem. She would never give up, never admit defeat whilst a small glimmer of hope still remained. She was certainly one of the most talented Architects he had ever come across in his time on the job, and at such a young age, too. Physically he was no more than six years her senior; psychologically, he had decades on her. He had seen the very best of what dream-sharing had to offer, but these moments came at a heavy price. He had seen how it could twist a man's mind, altering his very personality until he became almost unrecognisable, even to his closest acquaintances. In reality, the cons of the job far outweighed the pros, and yet still they came back for more. Every time.

Arthur frowned when he noticed Eames approach Ariadne's table and bend to whisper something in her ear. She nodded, a quick jolt of the head, before the Forger straightened up and peered over her shoulder instead. Arthur leant back in his chair again, his eyes never leaving the twosome as they conversed in hushed tones. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but gathered from Ariadne's pointing and Eames' nods that she was explaining the layout of her maze to him.

A small frown creased his brow as he thought back to the incident hours earlier, immediately after their last shared dream – the last time he had seen them both together. Ariadne had rushed off to the bathroom before he could even stand up and attempt to talk to her. He had no idea what he could have said; he had already offered her his words of comfort in the dream, trying his best to console her as she had sobbed into his shirt. What else _could_ he do? He had suspected she would react that way when he finally revealed his thoughts to her; it was part of the reason he had been so reluctant to say anything, though he knew he would not be able to keep her in the dark for long. She was too inquisitive and headstrong for that. Once she set her sights on something, she wouldn't rest until she knew everything – _that_ much he had figured out rather quickly. He had observed her a great deal during their training sessions together, trying to work out what sort of person she was, how she might go about her task as their Architect, and had been pleasantly surprised. Despite her lack of experience, she had slotted into their setup perfectly. He had had his reservations about Cobb's decision to bring in someone so green, but his partner's insistence had paid off. She had not only helped to pull off the most difficult job Arthur had ever been involved in, but had also saved them from failure at the hands of their own lack of foresight. Cobb had told him what had happened during the third layer, when Mal had shown up and jeopardised the whole operation by killing Fischer and sending him to Limbo. It was only due to Ariadne's persistence and quick thinking that they had managed to go down and rescue him, thus completing the assignment Arthur himself had once thought impossible. She was, without a doubt, the most remarkable, fascinating person he had met in a long time. Against his better judgement, he found himself wanting to get to know her better; to delve deeper than the research notes he had compiled, past the exterior of the talented Architect and successful college student. To find out who she truly _was_, away from the job, the incredible dreamscapes she effortlessly constructed. But deep down, he knew it was impossible. They could do almost anything in dreams; he relaxed around her so much more when he knew none of it was real. But on the surface it was completely different. He knew he could take it no further, and so chose not to entertain the idea. It was dangerous to even try.

Movement in front of him jolted Arthur from his troublesome thoughts. The change in Eames' posture caught his eye; the Forger now had his hand on Ariadne's back and was patting her shoulder, muttering something to her that the Point Man could not hear. Arthur leant forwards in the chair again, the front legs falling to the floor with a dull thud. He frowned, wondering just how close his two colleagues had become during the forced shared dreams they had experienced together. They would have been down there for hours, perhaps even days, due to the sedative Denley had used on them. Was that why Eames had chosen to go to her when she had hurried off to the bathroom, fresh tears streaking her pale face? Arthur had been surprised at the time when the Forger had turned on his heel and strode over to the tiny room after Cobb's hasty explanation of what had transpired in the dream; but he had dismissed it, knowing that he had more important things to think about. He had thought that she might need some time alone to come to terms with their proposal regarding Denley, but Eames had clearly had other ideas. To see her emerging from the bathroom minutes later with a smile on her face, playfully slapping the Forger on the arm for his ridiculous excuse – it had stung, he had been surprised to note. Somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach.

Without thinking about what he was doing, Arthur stood up and made his way over to the pair. They were still talking quietly, both focused on the half-completed three-dimensional model resting on the table. Ariadne kept turning it around and pointing out different parts, eliciting nods and frowns from the Forger each time.

'How's it going?' he asked, his own voice sounding far too loud in the near-silence of the warehouse.

Eames looked up from the table, a weary expression on his face. 'Well, actually. It's simple, but effective. Should work perfectly.'

Arthur stood to the right of Ariadne, peering over her other shoulder to inspect the model. His arm brushed against hers as he leant forwards, and he could have sworn he felt her tense under the brief contact. He pretended not to notice.

'This is good,' he said as he examined the white streets and small scale buildings of her circular maze. 'I see you've added a skyscraper in the middle, too. That'll do nicely. Do you think you'll have it done by morning so you can run over the final design together?'

Ariadne glanced up at him and nodded. 'It's been easier than I thought. Then again, after constructing three layers for the Inception, I suppose anything would seem simple in comparison.'

'Nothing's ever simple in this job,' Arthur replied with a shake of his head. 'It's you. You're a very talented Architect, Ariadne. One of the best I have ever had the pleasure to work with. You make it _seem _easy.'

Arthur thought he caught a faint flush creep into Ariadne's cheeks at his unexpected compliment, but she had turned away and resumed her study of the model before he could be sure. He wasn't even certain where the praise had come from, only that he meant every word.

'I'm going to grab forty winks before we crack on with the real business,' Eames said, the ghost of a smile passing over his lips as he looked between his two colleagues. 'I'll catch up with you in a while.'

Ariadne nodded at him, before he turned and headed off toward the beds in the corner of the warehouse. Arthur watched him go, his eyes roaming around the room as he searched for the others. Cobb had fallen asleep on one of the lawn chairs next to the PASIV; Yusuf and Saito occupied the other two spare beds, following Arthur's – albeit hypocritical – instructions to get some rest before their work began in earnest the following morning. He felt a pang of guilt twist his stomach as he thought of Ariadne and the fact that he had effectively asked her to forgo sleep in order to complete the model of the maze. He turned back to find her still examining her work.

'Are you okay?' he asked, keeping his voice low. 'Do you need to rest?'

Ariadne shook her head as she looked up at him. 'I've got to finish this first,' she replied. 'I'll take a quick nap afterwards.'

Arthur frowned at the intense look in her eyes – it was one he knew all too well. She was becoming fixated on her task, ignoring everything else in the pursuit of its perfection and completion. Whilst he admired her tenacity, he knew that it was also important for the whole team to be alert the next day, not running on empty when the time came to implement the plan.

'I think it would be best if you stopped for a while and rested,' he said. 'I need everyone on form tomorrow if this is going to have any chance of success. And that means giving your mind and body a break every now and then.'

'_You_ don't sleep,' Ariadne pointed out.

Arthur grimaced at the accusation. She was right, of course; he was being a complete hypocrite. But he was used to functioning on little to no sleep. She, on the other hand, was clearly not. At least not to the same extent.

'No, but I'm accustomed to it. You're not.'

'You've obviously never met an Architecture student before,' she muttered.

Arthur couldn't help but smile. It was just like being back in one of the training sessions again, their conversation easy, comfortable, even whilst it still pertained to their work.

'Humour me?' he said, placing a hand on the small of her back, the pressure soft but insistent.

She put up no further resistance, so he took the opportunity to guide her over to one of the lawn chairs, gesturing for her to take the one next to Cobb. She sat down without saying a word and watched as he fetched his own jacket to use as a pillow. He folded it up into a small bundle, trying his best not to crease it too much, though without much luck. She took it from him with a small smile, her eyes looking heavier already.

'Thank you,' she mumbled as she leant back in the chair, resting her head on the makeshift cushion.

She was asleep within minutes of closing her eyes. Arthur watched as her breathing slowed, satisfied that she was indeed sleeping. _God knows she's going to need it. _He glanced around the room again, taking in the remainder of the people there. The rest of the team were all slumbering, he was glad to see. Denley's men were sitting near the warehouse door; two of them were engaging in quiet conversation with each other, while the third dozed in a nearby chair, his gun resting on his lap. Arthur noted with interest that it was the same guard he had caught napping on several prior occasions. He also realised that the spot was out of view of the CCTV cameras Denley had installed around the warehouse; he was sitting directly beneath one, in its blind spot. The corner of his mouth twitched up as he considered the implications of this discovery.

He leant back in the lawn chair and scanned the rest of the room, trying to appear as though he were simply resting for a few minutes. It was too dark to make out the individual cameras, but it didn't matter; he could count four red flashing lights, one in each corner of the warehouse. He didn't remember ever seeing one in the bathroom; apparently Denley had some shred of decency left in him. Either that, or his technician had overlooked the room entirely. It was useful to know.

Arthur rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands again while trying to organise his thoughts in his mind. Even in the relative silence of the warehouse he still found it difficult to think properly. He put it down to the fact that he knew his every move was being monitored and sighed, glancing across at his two sleeping companions.

There was only one way to solve _that_ problem.

**A/N: Arthur's back! And he'll hang around for a while, rest assured. I know you're all impatient for the real action to begin, to find out how the team are going to implement Arthur's rather extreme plan. Bear with me - it's on the way! But I don't want to rush it now we're so close to the final furlong. I want the ending to play out the same as the rest of the story in terms of pacing, as I think it would ruin it if I tried to force it through. But the beginning of the end is no more than 2-3 chapters away now. Again, no concrete promises on that front, but that's how it's plotted in my head.**

**I hope you liked this chapter and the return of Arthur's POV. It was quite heavy regarding his own internal thoughts, and I hope they weren't too overwhelming within the context of the rest of the story. I shall endeavour to write the next chapter some time today whilst I've actually got some free time, so don't be surprised if you spot 31 pop up sooner rather than later.  
**

**Toodle-pip from me!  
**


	31. Chapter 31

**31.**

Arthur was sitting on a very familiar bench, staring out across a familiar pond while familiar families ambled through the park. He breathed out a contented sigh as he gazed at his surroundings, letting the laughter and shouts of the many young children wash over him. As trite as it sounded, it was his favourite place in the world. He hadn't told Ariadne, but it was constructed from his own memory, despite Cobb's dire warnings on allowing such a thing. It reminded him of the trips he used to take with his family when he was a young boy, kicking a ball about with his elder brother and father whilst his mother lounged on a blanket and watched over their picnic. He knew it was an idealised memory, but he cherished it nonetheless. It had been in this very park that he had seen his family for the last time, nearly five years ago. He planned on visiting them, one day soon. But time had a funny way of scurrying by, and before he knew it their fifth anniversary was fast approaching. Five years seemed an appropriate date on which to establish some form of contact again.

He let his thoughts wander for once, knowing that he had plenty of time on the clock before the dream would start to collapse around him, as it always did. He allowed the sun to warm his face, closing his eyes as he tilted his head up towards it. For an artificial sun, it sure was hot. He unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt and rolled them up to his elbows, relishing the feeling of the rays on his bare arms. If only it were real ...

The Point Man had been sitting alone for nearly half an hour, content with his own thoughts and company, when he heard the sound of footsteps on the path behind him. He would have ignored them, passed them off as one of numerous projections that inhabited his dream, but for the fact that they seemed to be heading straight towards him. He glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowing when he recognised the person walking his way.

'Eames? What the hell are you doing here?' he demanded, getting to his feet as the Forger stopped before him.

Eames shrugged and dropped onto the bench. 'I couldn't sleep,' he said simply. 'Yusuf's bloody snoring is enough to wake the dead. I saw you were hooked up and thought I'd come to have a nosy about. Don't worry, I put another five minutes on the clock.'

Arthur heaved a sigh, his hands now shoved into his pockets as he regarded the man sitting in front of him. 'You know, there _is_ such a thing as privacy, even in our job. I would have thought it was clear that I wanted some time to myself.'

'Well, obviously,' Eames retorted. 'But what sort of friend would I be if I let you dwell on things alone?'

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at him, his scepticism plain to see. 'Since when have you classed yourself as my friend?'

'Oh, I don't know. Probably around the time I realised you weren't the same guy with a permanent rod stuck up his backside that I knew a year ago.'

'Charming,' Arthur muttered as he resumed his seat on the bench, staring out across the water as was his wont in this dream. 'So, what's the _real_ reason you're here then?'

Eames gave him a sidelong look. Arthur caught the quick smile out of the corner of his eye.

'There's no fooling a shrewd chap like you, eh?' the Forger chuckled. 'I just wanted to discuss some things with you. Away from prying eyes. Or ears, I should say.' Arthur said nothing, instead waiting for him to continue. 'I take it you've got the bulk of things sorted in your head. Just the timing to figure out now, right?'

'More or less,' Arthur replied with a nod. 'There are still a couple of things I'm unclear on, but I'll have them down before we kick things into action.'

'And what about Browning? Where does he fit into all this?'

Arthur hesitated, his fingers straying to the opening of his trouser pocket as he thought through his answer. 'I'm not sure yet,' he admitted. 'Denley's an unknown, anonymous to everyone except those in the business of Extraction. We can dispose of him pretty easily, perhaps even send him back to Cobol as a warning not to bother pursuing us anymore. But Browning – he's an important figurehead. He can't just mysteriously disappear.'

'If we took him under as well we'd have to come up with some excuse for his condition. Maybe spread a rumour that he had a stroke or something?'

'Perhaps,' Arthur said slowly. 'I think we all need to decide on that during the practice run. We certainly can't let him loose without gaining some assurances first. He'd likely just hunt us down again if we did, turn us in to the F.B.I. and have us locked away for good. We're still liabilities to him, though not as much as we are to Denley.'

'So it'll only be the four of us going under,' Eames remarked. 'You, me, Cobb and Ariadne.'

Arthur curled his fingers around the die in his pocket as he nodded. 'Yes, just like I said. The others have more important jobs to do up top.'

'And why is our young Architect coming along, may I ask? There's no reason for her to be there. Her only purpose is to design the maze, which she'll have done. And I don't think she'll be too thrilled with the idea this time, considering what we're going to do.'

Arthur was silent for a few minutes. He wasn't sure how to reply, for even _he_ didn't know why he wanted Ariadne to come along with them, when there really was no _need_ for her to. He just felt that she would be better off going under with them, rather than staying up top with Yusuf and Saito.

The image of Denley's goon popped into his head as he sat staring at the sun setting in the distance. The way he looked at their Architect every time she left the bathroom ... Arthur didn't need to go into his dreams to understand _his_ thoughts. His fingers flexed around his totem, before clutching it tightly once more.

'I know,' he said finally. 'But ... I just feel like it would be better if she came with us. I don't want her staying up top when I don't know what's happening.'

'You can't control everything, Arthur,' Eames said, shaking his head.

'It's my job to organise and manage everything. I wouldn't be a very good Point Man if I failed in that department.'

'So, this is all about doing your job by Ariadne, is it? She's just another member of the team you feel responsible for?'

Arthur felt his muscles tense at the disbelieving tone of Eames' voice and clenched his jaw. 'Yes, of course it is. What else would it be?'

To Arthur's surprise the Forger began to chuckle. He turned to glare at him before standing up and taking a few steps away from the bench.

'I fail to see what's so funny,' he snapped.

'Oh, Arthur. Come now, let's not pretend. I saw the look you gave me earlier when I was going over the maze with her. I _know_ that look.' Arthur said nothing; he was too busy glowering at a nearby tree to even think of replying. 'You don't need to worry, mate,' Eames added, getting off the bench to stand next to Arthur. Arthur stiffened as he clapped him on the shoulder. 'I grew quite fond of her during all those blasted dreams that bastard put us through. You could even say we _bonded_ over the shared circumstances. But she's like a little sister to me. Nothing more.'

Arthur didn't know what to say. Was that it – had he been _jealous_ of Eames' interactions with her? His easy companionship, the comfortable way he patted her on the back to reassure her? He had never stopped to consider just what he felt for the Architect. He didn't have the time; and besides, he had always maintained that personal relationships were just too dangerous in their line of work. Cobb and Mal had proven that. But what he did know was that he felt the need to protect her in whatever way possible. He had _promised _to keep her from harm. But ... he did the same for the whole team after every job. Were his intentions towards Ariadne really any different?

'But you know,' Eames continued, sensing Arthur's unwillingness to talk, 'her subconscious is bloody terrifying. I wouldn't want to meet _you_ down a dark alley any time soon.'

Arthur gave him a withering look. _Trust Eames to bring _that_ up._ He rather wanted to forget about his shoot-to-kill doppelganger, and hoped he would never have to face him again. After all, _he _was there for Ariadne now. She didn't need a dream substitute any longer.

'Right, so we've got the skyscraper in the middle now where I can do my thing,' Eames said, surprising Arthur with the abrupt change of subject. He couldn't say he was too upset. 'You and Cobb will be down below when Denley arrives, right?' Arthur nodded. 'Okay, so now we just need to figure out what to do with Browning and exactly how we're going to get to Denley when he arrives later today.'

'I think I know what to do,' Arthur replied. 'Like I said, I'll have everything sorted by the time we do the practice run.'

'What about the 3-man rule?'

'Don't worry, I told you, I'll handle that. Just get some sleep before we begin. I don't need you dropping off and not covering us when we get Denley in the middle.'

'Yes, sir,' Eames grinned, giving the Point Man a mock salute.

Arthur rolled his eyes and reached around his back to take out his ever-present gun. 'Ready?' Eames nodded and took up his position a few paces away. Arthur raised it level with the Forger's head, as always, but this time hesitated before firing. 'Eames?' He paused. 'Thanks.'

The bullet resounded in Arthur's ears as it found its mark in the centre of his target's forehead. He took a deep breath, letting his eyes roam around the park one last time, before pressing the cold barrel to his own temple. He squeezed his eyes shut, clutched the totem in his pocket, and pulled the trigger.

**A/N: So, a little bit of Eames/Arthur this time. Because, despite what it may seem, I do actually love the idea that these two get along really well in spite of their bickering. Eames spent a lot of time with Ariadne during those dreams, and would have necessarily grown that much closer to her because of it. He figured out pretty quickly that there was something between our two favourite couple, as confusing and subdued as it might be. So who better to make them think about this than everyone's favourite Forger! Only in a more subtle way than usual.**

**There was actually something to do with Arthur's background that I didn't manage to put into this chapter, so I'll have to figure out a way of slipping it in elsewhere. Actually, I think I might know how ... ooh, tantalising, eh? :P**

**Look out for the next chapter in another day or two. Until then, enjoy the rest of your weekend everyone!  
**


	32. Chapter 32

**32.**

Arthur sat in the lawn chair until the others finally awoke. Cobb was first, an hour or so after Eames had wandered back over to the spare bed to grab what little sleep he could. He sat up, nodded once at Arthur, and walked into the bathroom to take a quick shower and change.

Saito stirred next, glaring at the still-snoring Chemist as he stood up to pick up a change of clothes from his suitcase.

Eames followed not long after, apparently too restless to doze for longer than thirty minutes. He whacked Yusuf over the head with a pillow to wake him, then strolled away, leaving the bemused Chemist to stare at the offending article with some disdain.

The others had all taken their five minutes in the bathroom whilst Arthur sat on the edge of his chair, waiting for the last member of their team to rouse. He was there when she finally did, watching her as her eyelids slowly fluttered open. She gazed at him through eyes bleary with sleep for a few moments before struggling into a sitting position. She blinked several times and scrubbed the heels of her hands over her face.

'Did you sleep well?' Arthur asked, his elbows resting on his knees as he leant towards her.

Ariadne nodded as she stifled a yawn with her hand. 'One of the best nights I've had in a while, actually. Your jacket makes a good pillow,' she smiled.

Arthur returned the gesture. 'That's good to know.' He stood up and stretched his arms out in front of him. 'The others are all up and ready if you want to take a quick shower. We've got to get the maze finished before we can do a practice run.'

Ariadne glanced down at her watch, gasped, then jumped off the lawn chair. 'Shit! Why didn't you wake me earlier? It's so late already.'

Arthur felt his lips twitch into another smile at her flustered expression and coarse language. Who would have expected it from such an innocent-looking young lady?

'It's fine,' he assured her. 'We've got plenty of time before Denley and Browning get here. I have faith in you. I know you'll be finished well ahead of schedule.'

Ariadne didn't seem to be listening. She spared him a brief look before hurrying over to her suitcase and grabbing a clean outfit. Arthur watched as she fairly ran past the others, ignoring their muttered 'good morning' speeches, and closed the bathroom door behind her. His eyes immediately sought out Denley's men. One napping in a chair; one smoking a cigarette by the warehouse door ...

_There he is._ As Arthur had predicted, the third guard was not-so-subtly staring at the room Ariadne had just entered, edging closer to it every few seconds. He scowled at the back of the man's head, marched over to his case, and carefully picked out a new suit. Ignoring the curious looks of his teammates, he grabbed a plastic chair from the table he usually sat at with Cobb and dragged it over to the bathroom door. He positioned it a few feet away, hitched his trousers up, and sat down. The goon frowned at him for a few minutes, clearly unsure what to think. Arthur met his gaze with a glare of his own, until the man finally turned to walk away. He rejoined his smoking companion and proceeded to hold a quiet conversation with him. Arthur caught the glances both men gave him every so often, but never once took his eyes off them. He folded his arms across his chest, leant back in the chair, and waited.

Ariadne found him in the same position when she exited the bathroom ten minutes later. She stopped in her tracks and stared down at him, her brow furrowed. Arthur caught the heady scent of her strawberry shampoo and floral perfume as she took a few steps towards him, noticing with some interest that she was still wearing the red scarf he had returned to her three days previous. He could have sworn he had spied others packed in her case when he had opened it. Then again, he knew very little about women's fashion, despite his own tastes. _Perhaps they don't go with the outfit she's wearing today,_ he found himself thinking. He refrained from rolling his eyes at the absurd thought and got to his feet.

'Were you ... waiting to go in?' Ariadne asked.

Arthur nodded, but couldn't stop the involuntary glance over at the two men, still conversing in hushed tones by the warehouse door. Ariadne followed his gaze; the guards promptly looked away when they caught sight of her. Arthur thought he saw a faint shudder ripple through her body as she turned back to face him.

'I'll go and finish up the maze while you get ready, then,' she said, her voice flat, quieter than usual.

'Sure. Remember to run it by Eames when you're done.'

Ariadne nodded and with a half-smile turned to walk away. Arthur watched her until she reached the others, then hurried into the bathroom himself. He quickly stripped off his clothes and jumped into the shower, turning the dial as hot as it would go. He stood there for fifteen minutes, letting the scalding water wash away the tension in his muscles. It was nice to forget about everything and just concentrate on the searing heat as it poured over his body, if only for fifteen blissful minutes.

Arthur turned the shower off when he could no longer stand the boiling water and wrapped a towel around his waist. He gave his teeth a quick brush and examined his face in the mirror. The circles under his eyes were darker still – if that were even possible – and he was showing signs of stubble on his cheeks and chin. He hadn't been able to shave in days, since he had left his own hotel to go visit Ariadne. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, with all that had happened. He assumed that Denley's men had confiscated his razor when they had checked their suitcases, but was relieved to find his tub of gel in the side pocket. He raked his fingers through his hair, smoothed it into place, then patted some aftershave on his cheeks and neck.

Only when he stood there in a new – if a little creased – suit, his dark hair perfectly slicked-back, the smell of soap still lingering on his hands and body – only then did he feel like himself again. He was ready to take on the day's tasks – the ones that would decide whether they lived or died. His stomach knotted at the thought, and he was surprised to find his fingers trembling ever so slightly. He plunged his right hand into his pocket and gripped his totem, willing himself to calm down. He couldn't lose it now. He had to be calm, collected, as composed as a Point Man should be. After all, everyone was counting on him.

He couldn't possibly let them down.

Feeling more refreshed than he had done in days, Arthur strode out of the bathroom and headed straight toward the other members of the team. He could see Ariadne bending over her model, spinning it around as she inspected it from every angle. Eames was watching her from a nearby seat, apparently waiting until she was finished so he could go over the design with her one last time. The others were sitting around the main table, Yusuf and Saito listening as Cobb spoke in low tones, gesturing every now and then with his left hand. Arthur joined them, standing behind Yusuf's chair as he watched Cobb talk.

'About time!' Eames called out from his own chair next to Ariadne's table. 'You took longer than the only woman here. But hey, at least you look good, right?'

Arthur couldn't stop the roll of his eyes this time. 'Piss off, Eames,' he muttered, throwing the Forger a contemptuous glare that didn't quite reflect in his expression.

He noticed Ariadne's quick glance before she turned back to her model, and could have sworn there was a small smirk on her lips. Eames let out a hearty chuckle, seemingly unperturbed by Arthur's attempt to intimidate him, before returning his gaze to Ariadne's work, too. Arthur hesitated by Yusuf's chair for a few minutes longer, listening – but not registering – what Cobb was saying. When he realised that he wasn't taking in a single word, he gave up and wandered over to Ariadne's table.

'Nearly done?' he inquired, ignoring Eames' pointed look as he peered over the Architect's shoulder.

'Yes, I think so. I'm just making sure all the different sections are closed off so the projections won't find us. It'll be relatively easy for Denley to find the centre, but should hold them off for long enough so that we can ... well, you know.'

Arthur nodded, comprehending her meaning instantly. The fact that she was unable to complete the sentence did not escape his notice, and he felt a small twinge of guilt when he realised just how much she loathed his plan still, despite all the reasons for it. But she would thank him one day, when it was all over and she was safe to live her own life again. When she could stop looking over her shoulder, worrying that someone could try to kidnap her at any moment. She would forgive him.

He had to believe that.

'Good work,' he muttered in her ear. 'It'll be perfect.'

He straightened up and made his way over to the three guards grouped by the warehouse door. One was still dozing in a chair; one was still smoking a cigarette; the other glared at him as he approached, clearly still irritated by his earlier vigilance outside the bathroom.

'What do you want?' the man spat, moving his gun to the front of his body so that Arthur could not help but notice it. 'Shouldn't you be working on that stupid plan of yours?'

Arthur kept his expression blank as he looked at the man, but couldn't help the smile in his mind's eye. _If only you knew ..._

'That's what I need to talk to you about,' he replied, addressing both men. 'We're almost done, but we can't complete the preparation without going through a practice run.'

'So? Go do it then,' the other guard said, blowing smoke in Arthur's direction.

Arthur clenched his jaw and suppressed the urge to cough. He shoved his hands into his pockets to stop himself from wrenching the cigarette from the man's mouth and returned his gaze with a calm one of his own.

'I would, but I don't want to be shot at when I hook six people up to the machine.'

The men narrowed their eyes at him as they registered his words. The smoker dropped his cigarette to the floor and crushed it beneath his boot.

'Only three allowed. You know that.'

'Yes, I do. But we'll all be going under during the Inception, and we can't finish our preparations until we've gone through the plan at least once.' The men shared a quick glance with each other, their expressions doubtful. 'Come on, make an executive decision for once. Do you want your boss to blame you if the job goes wrong and he doesn't get what he wants?'

The mention of Denley seemed to spur the men into action. Arthur noted with amusement the flash of panic in their eyes before the smoker gave him a quick nod.

'All right, but one of us will go in with you.'

Arthur fought against the urge to frown at the man. There was no way he could allow that; but how to convince them otherwise?

'That's fine,' he lied, racking his brains for an excuse to stop him. 'But just to let you know, we'll _all_ be going under.'

'Yeah, and?'

Arthur shrugged and turned away, listening to the men's footsteps as they followed him over to the PASIV device. He glanced over at Ariadne and found her going over the maze with Eames.

He almost smiled when the idea hit him. 'Guys, are you ready for the practice run?' he called out to his teammates.

The group made their way over to him, Eames and Ariadne sharing a few last words before they joined the rest. He caught the look Ariadne gave Denley's man, but forced himself to ignore it.

'Okay, there'll be seven of us this time. Us six, and – '

'Wait a minute,' the smoker interrupted. 'Is _she_ going in as well?'

Arthur turned to look at him, his expression impassive. 'Of course. I said _all_ of us, remember?'

The man shook his head. 'Oh no, there's no way I'm going under with _her_. Not after the other dreams. I'm not goin' to be shot in the fucking head for anyone. Not again.'

'How about you?' Arthur said, sliding his gaze over to Denley's other guard.

The second man flicked his eyes at Ariadne and, apparently seeing something that alarmed him further, shook his head, too. 'Not a chance.'

'Well now, it seems we're at an impasse,' Arthur said, furrowing his brow. 'How about him?'

He nodded his head at the guard dozing in his usual chair. The two men shook their heads for a second time.

'Nope. None of us will go in with her again. We're fucking sick of the feel of bullets. You're on your own.'

Arthur raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. 'Well, if you're sure you don't want to join us ... '

'Just get a move on,' the smoker growled. 'You've got five minutes.'

Arthur nodded and turned towards his team. He noticed the amused glint in Eames' eyes, the bemused expression of both Yusuf and Saito, but most of all Ariadne's apparent discomfort as she realised what they were talking about. He held her gaze for a few moments, trying to reassure her with a simple look, before preparing the PASIV for all six members.

'We've got one chance at this,' he told them as they settled into a chair each. 'So let's get it right.'

He sat down on his own chair next to Ariadne and slid the needle into his wrist. Once he was certain the others were all hooked up, he reached out and pressed the release button.

His last thought before the darkness consumed him was a hopeful one: _This is it. We can't afford to screw up now._

**A/N: Well, it seems I was able to write this chapter faster than I originally thought. Hopefully that doesn't mean it's not as good as it could be! I've just noticed that I seem to end rather a lot of chapters with them going into a dream, but it's such a good place to leave it ... ah well. There should only be one more chapter like it after this. :)**

**Having just seen Inception yet again today, I have realised that I've got a few details incorrect throughout the story. Nothing particularly major as my memory's pretty good for stuff like that - but it will still irritate me, so I shall likely change them tomorrow. However, if you're reading this it means you've also read the offending chapters in question long ago, so it doesn't much matter now. Why am I even telling you this ... ?  
**

**Just ignore me, and be on the look out for another chapter tomorrow night. :P Enjoy whilst I go drop into bed and think about how much I really DON'T want to go to work tomorrow. Oh, woe is me ...  
**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Okay, before we start the next chapter I should probably clear something up. Apparently there's some confusion over my rating of the story. Now, being from the UK and having very little experience with the American ratings, I read the guide and it said 'M' for coarse language - there's not much in the story, granted, but it's there, so I thought I'd do it just in case. If I were going by UK ratings I would put it at a '15', and the 'M' (not 'M+') seems to be closest to that. However, if people think it's okay for a 'T+', or whatever it is, let me know and I'll duly change it.**

**Now! Onwards and ... downwards? At least for now. :P  
**

**33.**

Ariadne stood next to the Tourist Information kiosk, waiting for the others to arrive. She gazed up at the buildings around her, scrutinising the changes to her design. Everything had to be perfect so that Eames could replicate it for the real thing.

She felt her stomach squirm as she thought about what would take place right here, in less than twelve hours' time. Try as she might, she couldn't stop picturing Denley's blank, lifeless face as he lie bleeding on the tarmac beneath her feet. Yes, she knew there was no other way; that Arthur was doing right by the team; that he would have chosen another option had there been any available to him. But those thoughts did nothing to stop the nausea that gripped her whenever she happened to consider his plan. There was no turning back, not now they had everything ready. There really _was_ nothing else they could do. And she just had to accept that, one way or another.

Footsteps ahead of her drew her attention away from the skyscraper looming above her. She looked down and found Arthur and Cobb walking towards her, both dressed in their customary dark suits. Not for the first time since meeting these enigmatic men, she felt utterly underdressed in her jeans, t-shirt and thin cardigan getup. She wondered vaguely whether she should use some of the fee from the Inception job to buy herself a new wardrobe, before cutting the thought short. _We might not even survive the night,_ she reminded herself, biting her bottom lip so hard it stung. It pained her to think that way, but she was nothing if not a realist. Well, most of the time.

'We've only got an hour here, so the others better hurry up,' Arthur grumbled.

Ariadne was about to point out that he had only _just_ arrived himself when she heard a familiar chuckle behind the two men. She stepped to the side to see Eames, Yusuf and Saito bringing up the rear, the Forger gesticulating with his hands as he – apparently – told a rather amusing joke. Ariadne found herself wanting to ask what it was, but was interrupted by Arthur's loud cough and pointed looks at the others. They came together in a rough circle, and Ariadne was instantly reminded of the last time they had all shared a dream together; of the last time they had stood around in such a fashion, a few days before the fateful flight from Sydney to Los Angeles. Oddly enough, they had gone into a constructed dream not unlike the city streets they now found themselves in. Ariadne couldn't help the slight shiver that shot through her body as she considered the significance.

'Right, now we're all here we can go through the whole plan,' Arthur began, looking at each of his companions in turn.

'But why are _we_ here?' Saito asked, gesturing to himself and Yusuf. 'I thought we were to stay outside of the dream while you four went under.'

'That's correct, but it's easier for everyone to understand what's going on this way. It's too risky to tell you up there with Denley's men listening in all the time. And we have to make them believe we're going through with the Inception. That's key. They _can't_ suspect anything.'

Saito nodded his understanding and said no more. Ariadne frowned, and wondered for the first time why _she_ was going under with them. What purpose would she serve?

'Arthur?' The Point Man turned his gaze on her. 'Why am _I _going in with you? I'm only meant to build the mazes, right? I mean, I thought the Inception was an exception to the rule.'

Arthur seemed to consider his words before replying. The others were looking at him with similarly curious expressions to her own, clearly unaware of his reasons for wanting her to share the dream. That is, everyone except Eames, who seemed strangely subdued all of a sudden. He avoided looking at her as she tried to catch his eye.

'That's true,' Arthur said slowly. 'But I'm going to make an exception in this case, too, if you're not against the idea.'

He seemed to watch her, as though trying to read her mind, probing her for an answer. She shuffled her feet, uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny.

'No, I suppose I'm not. I mean, I'd rather not actually _be_ here when ... it happens.'

'That's fine. You can hide out in one of the buildings if you like. Just as long as you're in the vicinity.'

Ariadne suppressed the sigh hovering on her lips and nodded her assent. She would much rather not be in the dream at all. Merely being nearby would be enough, hearing the inevitable gunshot that would precede the event. But Arthur seemed intent on having her accompany them. Though he tried to disguise it, she could see the desperation in his dark eyes, the worry that she would refuse. So she had said yes, if only to avoid saying no. The thought that she had suddenly become very meek crossed her mind, but she dismissed it immediately. She was in no position to be disputing everything this time, not with their very lives on the line. She just had to trust Arthur as she had done up till now, to put her faith in the dependable Point Man.

'Okay, so – does everyone know what their roles are?' Arthur continued, dragging his eyes across the other members once more.

Ariadne wanted to shout 'No!', but pursed her lips against the impulse. She watched as the others nodded.

'Good. As long as we're all clear, I won't bother to rehash it. We don't have a lot of time here so we need to make it quick.'

'So we sedate Denley and hook him up to the PASIV,' Cobb said, waiting for confirmation from Arthur, which duly arrived in the form of a quick nod. 'Then go under ourselves and wait for him to make his way here.'

'And Browning?' Eames asked with a pointed look at Arthur.

'Yes, him too. Even if we don't kill him as well, I want him here to witness it. He has to know _exactly_ what he's getting himself into if he wants to carry on pursuing us after this.'

Ariadne shuddered a second time at Arthur's cold words and the steely look in his eyes that accompanied them. She had never seen this side to him, and she wasn't sure she wanted to again. She would much rather Penrose Steps and his sly, half-smirk instead. Perhaps they would return once everything was all said and done. She could only hope.

'And what about his men?' Yusuf piped up. 'I'm not fighting them off on my own again, not after last time. I lost count of the number of bullets that whizzed past my ears in that van.'

'And we're all grateful for it,' Eames sighed. 'Really, we are. But you don't need to mention it at every bloody opportunity.'

Yusuf glared at the Forger, who only offered a cheeky grin in return. Arthur glowered at them both until they stopped and turned serious once more.

'I have a separate plan for them,' Arthur said. 'There's only four cameras in the warehouse; one in each corner, which means there are four effective blind spots directly beneath. There's also none in the bathroom. We'll need to eliminate the three up top before Browning and Denley arrive with the others. But we'll need to be quick. Timing is crucial if this is going to work.'

'So ... what? We whack them and then wait for Denley to get here? Not very _specific_, if you don't mind my saying so,' Eames said, one side of his mouth pulled up into a smirk.

'If you'd let me finish,' Arthur muttered, 'I was going to say – one of the guards just sleeps the whole day. And I mean, the _whole_ day. The only time he gets out of that chair is to take a piss, which isn't very often. So he'll be easy to get. The smoker I'll leave to you,' he said, looking at Eames. 'Follow him over to the door when he goes for a cigarette break and take him out. I don't think I've seen him without one in his hand for more than five minutes at a time. Try to get him outside, or at least out of view of a camera. He shouldn't be too hard considering how distracted he becomes when he's smoking.' Eames nodded, looking thoughtful as he considered Arthur's request. 'It's the last guy that's going to prove the toughest. He wanders around far too much and watches us most of the time. We won't be able to sneak up on him as easily as the others.'

They lapsed into silence, each member trying to come up with their own solution to the problem now presented to them. Ariadne pictured the dark-haired man with some disgust, recalling the way he had looked at her when she had left the bathroom. Whenever she happened to catch sight of him he was staring at her, with barely disguised lust burning in his eyes. It sickened her to think of what he might do given half a chance, and she found she was grateful for Arthur's sharp eyes. He had spotted it first and had taken appropriate measures to make sure the goon knew that _he_ knew what he was thinking. She had been rather confused to find the Point Man sitting outside the bathroom earlier, but it also made her smile. She felt safe with him nearby, and knew that he would never let the guy touch her. Not unless he wanted both arms, hands and all ten digits broken in a heartbeat. The idea sent a thrill down her spine, though she wasn't sure whether through fear or a strange sense of excitement.

It was as she was considering what Arthur could do to the degenerate guard that the idea hit her. _She _could take him out herself. Well, she could help, anyway. She could do her bit for the team, these men who were risking their lives to help each other – and her – out of the disaster they had found themselves in.

'I could do it,' she said suddenly, breaking the thoughtful silence that had enveloped the group.

'Do what?' Arthur asked with a frown.

'Distract the last guy. He's always watching me when I go into the bathroom, right? And you said there's no camera in there, so – '

'No way,' Arthur cut in, understanding her thought process almost immediately. 'No, I don't want you anywhere near him. Nor any of them, for that matter. They're too dangerous.'

Ariadne narrowed her eyes at him, determined not to give in this time. 'Arthur, you don't need to mollycoddle me _all_ the time. I've been in tight situations before, if you remember. I mean, for heaven's sake, I've been in _Limbo_ before, something even _you've_ never done.'

'I don't care. I won't stand by and let you offer yourself up on a plate to that disgusting, perverted scumbag.'

He spat the words out as though they burned his tongue, but Ariadne hardly noticed. She only heard the words 'no' and 'won't let you'. Protection was one thing; outright control was another. She hadn't been told what to do so forcibly since before she had left home at eighteen to go to college, and she wasn't about to let someone start it again.

'Won't you listen to yourself?' Ariadne snapped, her voice growing louder as her irritation spiked. 'You just said that you didn't know how to get to him. He's the last piece of the puzzle, right? And here I am, offering you the _only_ solution, yet you still refuse. Don't you trust me? Do you think I'm _incapable_ or something?'

Arthur stared at her, seemingly unfazed by her anger. She noticed his right hand dip into his pocket as it had done so many times, and wondered if he used the die as something _other_ than a simple reality check.

'She's right, Arthur,' Cobb said quietly. 'I can't think of any other way around it. If we don't take him out as well we'll have no chance.'

Ariadne glanced around at the other members of the team and noticed that all eyes were trained on the Point Man, waiting for his answer. She returned his steady gaze with a defiant one of her own, raising her chin ever so slightly for added effect. She _could_ do this. She could put aside her own doubts and fears and _help_ them. No matter what the suited, slick-haired man in front of her thought.

'Fine,' Arthur sighed, breaking the tense silence again. Ariadne let out a breath she hadn't even known she had been holding. 'Get him in the bathroom with some excuse, but _don't_ try to take him out yourself. One of us will be there as soon as he steps inside. Understand?'

Ariadne nodded, her heart racing in her chest. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her as he offered his consent. She would show him; she could do her bit, just like the rest of the team. She would _not _let him down.

'Is that everything then?' Eames asked. Ariadne snapped her eyes away from Arthur to look at the Forger; he did the same. 'I mean, is there anything else we need to add?'

Arthur's brow furrowed as he considered the Forger's words. 'I don't think so. We know how we're getting Denley in, how we're taking his men out, and what our roles are thereafter. Just make sure he gets to the middle _alone_ and we'll handle the rest. But stay up there and cover us, just in case.' Eames nodded his understanding. 'Yusuf, you keep an eye on the machine and make sure nothing goes wrong. Put ten minutes on the clock to be on the safe side. It shouldn't take that long, but I don't want to risk it. Saito, you keep a lookout for anyone. We'll have taken out his men by then, but you never know – more might show up. I trust you're both comfortable enough with a firearm to protect us?'

Yusuf opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short by Eames' dramatic sigh. 'Please, don't give him the opportunity to recount his heroic tales in the van. We all know you can shoot, buddy. No need to bore us all with the intimate details.'

The Chemist threw him another disdainful look, but said nothing. Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head.

'Just a quick observation,' Saito ventured. 'Why couldn't we just cut the power to the cameras and avoid getting caught that way?'

'I've looked all around the warehouse for the main server, but couldn't find it,' Arthur explained. 'It must be outside somewhere, or hidden from plain sight. It would be too risky to attempt cutting power to them all individually. One of the guards would notice and alert Denley, if the guy watching the film didn't spot it first.'

'Okay,' Cobb said, stepping further into the loose circle. 'So we've got the guards covered, Denley and Browning, _and_ each of our roles within the dream. I think that's it, unless someone can think of anything we've overlooked?'

The team looked around at each other, everyone shaking their heads. Eames marched forwards and clapped Arthur on the shoulder, a big smile on his face.

'And you thought you couldn't lead a team,' he said jovially. 'I'll admit it, I was wrong. You have one hell of a frightful imagination. I don't even want to _know_ what else you've got locked away in that pretty head of yours.'

'I suppose I'll take that as a compliment,' Arthur muttered.

'Right,' Cobb interrupted as Eames wandered back to his original spot. 'This is it now. There's no turning back. If we fail ... well, let's not even bother to think about that. We all know what's at stake here. So let's make sure we don't have any regrets at the end.'

His short speech elicited several vigorous nods from the team. Ariadne suppressed a small sigh. _No turning back ..._

In less than twelve hours they would know what their future held. She _had_ to rid herself of any lingering doubts and trust her own abilities, give herself over to Arthur's plan and _know_ that it was for the best. In short, she had to follow in Edith's footsteps.

_Non, je ne regrette rien._

**A/N: Yes, me again, just briefly. I promise you (REALLY promise) that the next chapter WILL be the start of Arthur's do-or-die plan. This really is IT now. I debated about this chapter for a while, as I didn't want to give away all the details of the plan (I still haven't, though more than I originally thought I would), but at the same time didn't want to just skim over it and leave you to go in blind. There were a few things that needed clearing up between the team (such as Ariadne's role etc.), which I thought appropriate to include here. Hopefully this doesn't seem like a filler chapter, or just a long explanation of what's going to happen. Besides, who's to say something might not ... go a little wrong along the way? You'll just have to hope it doesn't! ;) Or hope it does, whichever you prefer/think is more exciting.**

**Ariadne may seem a little scattered in her thoughts/feelings lately, but she's trying her best to stay calm and accept what's going to happen whilst attempting to help them. We all know she likes to get involved, and she doesn't want to sit on the sidelines while the others risk their lives for her. She has to do her bit, no matter what she may think of the plan. So! Be lenient with the poor girl, eh? :)  
**

**See you tomorrow night (hopefully) for the next chapter. If not then Wednesday after my cricket training. I'm determined to get it up in the next couple of days - can't leave you all hanging on a cliff, now, can I? No, that would be too cruel. Hehehe. Ta ta for now!  
**


	34. Chapter 34

**34.**

Arthur was pacing. He had stayed perfectly still in a chair for much of the day, going over every detail of the plan in his mind, trying to anticipate everything that could possibly go wrong. He had covered every angle and felt quite satisfied that they would achieve the required result in the end.

But as the evening closed in, he found he could not rest. First he drummed his fingers on the table, receiving a curious look from Cobb in the process; next his leg began to twitch, bouncing up and down as his shoe clicked on the concrete floor. Eames had watched him then, apparently distracted by the Point Man's obvious agitation. Not long after that he had given up and got to his feet, pacing up and down as he waited for the right sign. He wasn't entirely sure what it was yet, but he would know as soon as he saw it. Each of his teammates now had their eyes trained on him, every one of them awaiting _his_ prompt to commence their operation.

'Oi,' Eames hissed in his ear as he stood up to block Arthur's path. 'Would you cut it out? You're making me bloody nervous.'

'Sorry,' Arthur muttered. 'I just ... I _need _to know when Denley's going to be here. We need to time it just right.'

'And we will. No sweat. Just sit down and be still for five minutes, yeah?'

Arthur nodded and was about to follow the Forger over to the others seated around the table when a loud ringing behind him made him jump. He spun around to see one of the guards flipping open his phone and pressing it to his ear.

'Yes? Yes, sir. Right away.'

The conversation was short and sweet. The man shoved the phone back into his pocket and marched over to the group, glaring at each one in turn.

'The boss says he'll be here in half an hour. Make sure you're ready. You've got one shot at this. And if you fail ... well, I don't need to tell you what he'll do.'

He smirked as he made his way over to the PASIV device on the nearby table and pushed the lid closed. Arthur took an unwitting step towards him, his hand outstretched.

'What are you doing?' he asked. 'We need that.'

The man cocked his eyebrow at the Point Man, the sneer still firmly in place. 'Boss's orders. I've gotta run a maintenance check on it to make sure it's in good condition before the job. Can't have it failing right in the middle, now, can we?'

'Are you properly qualified to do that?' Arthur enquired. 'You could knock the equilibrium out if you don't know what you're doing.'

'We're Extractors too, dumbass. Of course we know what to do.'

Arthur shrugged his shoulders and watched as the man carried the silver case over to his companions. He returned to his teammates and stood in silence, each of them absorbed by their own thoughts. Though he had triple-checked everything each hour since they had completed their practice run, he glanced over his shoulder and observed the guards in the corner near the warehouse entrance. One was still sleeping; the other two were bending over the PASIV and muttering in low voices such that Arthur could not catch what they were saying. He began to tap his foot, the sound reverberating off the floor, before he caught the look Eames threw at him and stopped.

'As soon as they're done we'll start,' he muttered to the group. They all nodded; everyone except Ariadne, who was staring into the distance as though she hadn't even heard him. 'Ariadne? Are you okay?'

She snapped her head up to look at him, apparently startled to hear her own name being spoken. 'Oh, er ... yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking, that's all.'

Arthur didn't need her to elaborate; her quick glance at the dark-haired guard confirmed his suspicions. He tried to forget about _that_ part of their plan and concentrated on his feet instead. He had the vague thought that he should really polish his shoes when they finally got out, before a sharp click drew his attention. He whipped his head around to find the two men had finished their spot-check, one of them reaching into his pocket to draw out his pack of cigarettes.

'I need some air,' Arthur heard him mumble to his companion. 'Watch over them whilst I'm outside.'

The other nodded and turned to look at the group, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the Point Man. He began a slow walk around the edge of the warehouse, his eyes flicking up to the team every so often as though checking that they weren't up to anything. Arthur switched his gaze to the sleeping guard, and then the warehouse door, left slightly ajar. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle – it was time.

He turned to his colleagues and nodded his head, the movement imperceptible to those more than a couple of feet away from him. After a few moments Ariadne stood up and stretched her arms out, before walking over to her suitcase.

'I'm going to have a quick wash,' she called over her shoulder, loudly enough so that others beside the group could hear.

'All right, but don't be long,' Arthur replied. 'We'll be starting soon.'

She looked up at him, seeming to search for some reassurance in his eyes. He tried his best to convey it, waiting until she broke the contact by heading towards the bathroom. He could still hear the slow, heavy footsteps of the guard as he paced around the room, drawing steadily closer to them. A quick glance at both Eames and Cobb got them to their feet, readying themselves for their chance.

Within seconds Ariadne had reappeared from the bathroom, her white t-shirt clutched in front of her, barely covering the lace-trimmed bra beneath. Arthur tried not to stare at her as she approached the guard, a pleading look in her dark eyes.

'Could you help me?' she asked him. 'I think the shower's broken and I've only got a few minutes to get ready.'

Arthur looked away as the guard glanced over at them, pretending to be deep in conversation with Cobb and unable to hear Ariadne's exchange with him. In reality his ears were pricked for any hint of movement, the softest of whispers that would tell him what he was about to do.

'Sure,' the guard muttered.

'Thanks!'

Arthur could hear the exaggerated beam in her voice and forced himself not to look over his shoulder. Cobb and Eames were off before he could even nod at them a second time. He watched as Cobb crept up behind the dozing guard and clamped the damp cloth over his mouth and nose. The man jolted awake for a few seconds, nearly toppling off his chair as his arms flailed about, before going limp once more. Arthur silently thanked Yusuf for being so cautious before Fischer's Inception, and then for making up their sedative-laden handkerchiefs in the bathroom only half an hour ago. It had made their task that much easier.

He didn't hear the door behind him as it was gently closed.

Cobb laid the guard on the floor, still directly beneath the camera, and picked up his gun as Eames slid through the gap in the door. It was then Arthur's heart lurched in his chest as a single thought pierced his mind: _Ariadne._ He turned to find the bathroom door shut. He sprinted over to it, barely waiting to listen to the scuffle from the other side before he turned the handle and slipped inside.

The guard's back was to him, his hands on Ariadne's waist as she struggled to get free.

'Come on, darling, it won't take long,' he murmured in her ear. 'Stop squirming, goddammit.'

It felt as though a fire were burning in the pit of Arthur's stomach, scalding his insides and the back of his throat. If he had taken the time to look in the mirror, he would have seen the unadulterated hatred that blazed in his own eyes, the utter contempt etched into every line of his face. He lunged forward, wrapping his arm around the man's neck and wrenching him away. The guard spluttered as Arthur squeezed his forearm and bicep together, crushing his windpipe between the muscles. He reached around his thin body with his left arm, clutching the man's right wrist and pinning it to his torso.

'What the ... fuck ... ' the guard panted, choking the words out as he gasped for air.

Arthur barely noticed Ariadne standing in front him, staring in wide-eyed horror at the struggle taking place before her eyes. He was too intent on the feel of the man's rough skin beneath his hands, his laboured breathing directly below his head, his sharp kicks as he tried to beat Arthur away from him with the heels of his boots.

The last kick stunned him with its ferocity and he stumbled, loosening his hold on the man's neck for the briefest of seconds. But it was enough. The guard clawed at Arthur's left arm, tugging it free as his nails dug into the Point Man's flesh. Arthur hissed at the pain that shot through his shin bone, reacting instinctively as he stooped to hold his right leg. He looked up to find the man towering over him, fumbling with the gun in his holster. Adrenaline kicked him to his feet and he jumped up, curling his hand into a tight fist and pumping it through the air. His knuckles throbbed as they collided with his assailant's nose. The crack was loud enough for all to hear, the blood seeping onto Arthur's hand as he clenched the collar of the man's shirt. But the guard was too quick; he shoved the Point Man back before he could get a firm hold, his back crashing into the sink behind him. Arthur winced and sprung forwards again, this time aware that Ariadne had pressed herself up against the wall in an attempt to get out of their way.

The split second distraction cost him as the man charged into him with his shoulder, sending him flying into the door. He doubled over as a sharp pain shot up his spine, only partly-aware that the guard was reaching for his holster again. He pulled something small and black out, drawing it level with the Point Man's head. Arthur ducked down low as the bullet cracked, splintering the wooden door behind him.

'No!'

Arthur recognised the scream as Ariadne's, his eyes focusing on her terrified face as she watched the brawl. The sound appeared to divert the man's attention, his head turning a fraction as he looked over his shoulder at her. Arthur pushed himself off the floor and lunged at him once more, making straight for the gun. He grasped the barrel as another shot rang out in the tiny room, smashing the grimy mirror to his left. Arthur felt his palm sting as the metal burned the skin and wrenched the weapon from the guard's grip, thrusting his elbow into his face at the same time. The man's hands flew up to his face, clutching his twice-broken nose as the blood poured from the wound.

Arthur twisted the gun in his hand and raised it level with the guard's temple, ready to squeeze the trigger. But he stopped as he caught sight of movement from the corner of his eye. He barely had time to turn as Ariadne stepped forwards and lashed out with her leg, sending a swift kick into the man's groin as he stood rooted to the spot. He collapsed to the floor, one hand still covering his bleeding nose, the other stuck between his legs, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Arthur dropped down beside him and whipped the damp cloth from his trouser pocket, clamping it over his face before he had the chance to move. He was limp within seconds, his breathing steady as the blood trickled down his cheek and pooled on the floor.

Arthur grabbed the discarded gun and stood up, panting and clutching his side, one hand rubbing the small of his back. He glared down at the defeated man, spitting the words 'You piece of shit' at him, before raising his head to look at Ariadne.

'Are you okay?' he wheezed, hissing as he felt a sudden twinge in his side. 'I'm sorry, I should never – '

'It doesn't matter, I-I'm fine,' Ariadne cut him off. 'But you – you're bleeding.'

Arthur looked down at himself, raking his eyes over the scratches on his left forearm, staining his sleeves a dark crimson. He glanced in the broken mirror to find yet more cuts to his cheeks and neck – nothing too major. He had suffered worse. _Far_ worse.

'It's nothing,' he said shortly. 'Come on, we've got to get moving.'

He held out his left hand to her – the one that _wasn't_ smeared with blood. She took it without hesitation. He could feel her slender fingers trembling beneath his own as he wrenched the door open and pulled her outside.

They were immediately accosted by the remaining members of the team. They stared at Arthur's dishevelled appearance with wide eyes, taking in each cut and bruise.

'What the _fuck_ happened in there?' Cobb asked, peering around Arthur to look into the bathroom.

'Doesn't matter,' Arthur muttered. 'The other guy came off far worse.' He felt Ariadne give his hand a sharp squeeze and pulled her closer to him, so that their arms were touching. 'Come on, we've got to be ready when Denley gets here. You know what to do?'

The others nodded, Cobb and Eames brandishing the guns they had taken from their defeated targets. Arthur noted the slight swelling around Eames' right eye, the thin cut on his cheek. It seemed Cobb was the only one who had come away without a scratch on him.

'What about the cameras?' Yusuf asked, glancing at the nearest one high in the corner to their left. 'Won't they alert Denley to what's just happened? I mean, they'll soon realise something's wrong.'

'It'll be too late by then,' Arthur said as they walked toward the warehouse door. 'Denley will be here before they have a chance to warn him.'

They stopped in front of the entrance. As if on cue they heard the sound of an engine roaring just outside, seconds before it was killed. Car doors were opened and then slammed again, low voices approaching the door.

'Quick, either side,' Arthur urged, pressing himself up against the wall as the others followed suit, Cobb and Eames opposite him.

He held his gun to the side of his own head, gripping the butt with his throbbing fingers. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but he could still feel the sting in his shin, his back, his side ... in almost every part of his body. But it didn't matter. Not now. They were so close ...

The door swung open a split second before three men marched in, followed by Denley and Browning. Arthur waited until they were a few feet into the room, then pointed his gun at the back of their jailer's head.

'Hands above your heads,' he hissed. All five men spun around to face him, three of them fumbling for their own weapons. 'Don't even think about it. We'll kill you all before you even get them out. Now ... put your hands above your fucking heads.'

The men obeyed, their eyes flicking from Arthur to Cobb and Eames, then back again. Arthur took a step toward them, his eyes roaming over their suited bodies.

'Saito, Yusuf – take their weapons. Make sure you check everywhere.'

They obliged, hurrying forwards and patting down each man in turn, relieving them of their firearms and hidden blades. Denley's eyes never left Arthur's; the Point Man frowned at the small smirk twisting his lips.

'You think this is funny?' he spat. 'Rather an odd time to be smiling, don't you think?'

'Oh, I was just thinking about how wrong I had you,' Denley replied with a chuckle. 'Who'd have thought _you_ could come up with something like _this_.'

'You'd better believe it,' Arthur muttered.

He watched as Yusuf and Saito dumped the men's weapons onto the nearest table, then nodded his head once. They pulled out three more handkerchiefs and took out the remaining guards, leaving Denley and Browning standing alone.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' Browning demanded. 'You have no idea who you're messing with here, boy.'

'Oh, we know perfectly well,' Arthur replied. 'So don't think you can try to intimidate us. You haven't seen _anything_ yet.'

Saito clamped another damp cloth over the businessman's face, easing him to the floor as he passed out. Yusuf stepped forwards to do the same to Denley, but Arthur held out his hand to stop him.

'No, don't. I think I'll take this honour.'

He walked toward the Extractor, slowly, the gun held out at arm's length as he stared into the man's dark eyes. He stopped mere inches from him, close enough to smell the stale smoke on his breath. He looked at the gun in his hand, then whipped the butt across Denley's face as hard as he could. The impact shuddered up his arm as the Extractor stumbled, one hand clamped against his broken jaw. Arthur heard his soft laughter as he straightened up, facing the Point Man with the same smirk on his face. He nodded at Yusuf again and watched as the Chemist strode forwards, cloth in hand. Denley put up no resistance as it was held against his mouth.

'Quick, get them over to the chairs,' Cobb prompted, tucking his gun into the waistline of his trousers.

'I think it would be best if we didn't do it here,' Eames said quickly. 'They're bound to have spotted all this on the cameras and alerted more of his goons.'

_Shit,_ Arthur thought. _Why didn't I think of that?_

'Then what?' Yusuf asked. 'Where else can we do it?'

'In his limousine?' the Forger suggested. 'They did it to us in there before. There's plenty of space.'

'Fine, but get a move on,' Arthur hissed.

He grabbed the PASIV on the small table nearest the door and held his other hand out to Ariadne again. They hurried after the others, Yusuf and Saito carrying Browning between them while Cobb and Eames took Denley. They dumped them on the same seats Eames and Ariadne had once occupied not so many days previous.

'Okay, you know what to do once we're under, right?' Arthur asked as he handed his gun over to Yusuf and settled next to Ariadne on the plush leather seating. The Chemist nodded. 'Good. I'm putting ten minutes on the clock. It won't take longer than that. Just drive us somewhere out of the way. A quiet street, or a park or something. Anywhere but here.'

He could see the reluctance in Yusuf's eyes as he nodded his assent, perhaps thinking of the last time he had played the role of the getaway driver.

'Good luck,' Saito murmured as Cobb and Eames each slid a needle into their captors' wrists. 'I hope you don't need it down there.'

Arthur ignored his pessimistic words and concentrated on the others, making sure they were all settled in their seats before handing them their own tubes. He leant over and took hold of Ariadne's wrist before she could take hers from him, easing the needle in as gently as he could.

'You remember what to do?' he said softly, glancing up into her eyes to find a determined glint there that both pleased and worried him. 'Just get into one of the buildings as quickly as you can and wait. I'll come and get you once it's over.'

She nodded, still seeming slightly confused as to why she was going under in the first place. Arthur couldn't answer her unspoken question, for even now he didn't know himself. He just had the feeling that something bad was going to happen, and that he needed her nearby, in sight so he could keep an eye on her. Yes, her physical self would still be right here, motionless in the limo, and there was nothing he could do if something went wrong up top. But he felt better knowing that she would be with him, at least subconsciously.

'Okay, this is it. No regrets, right?'

The others nodded. Arthur glanced over at the lifeless figure of Denley, an eager smile twitching his bruised lips.

'Sweet dreams,' he muttered, before pressing the release button for the final time.

**A/N: And off we go! Whew, that turned out longer than I thought it would. I actually had something different in mind for this chapter, as I REALLY wanted to write it from Ariadne's POV, if only to have her reaction to Arthur busting into the bathroom. That scene was meant to be a lot shorter, too, but once I let Arthur loose on the man it seemed I couldn't stop! So apologies if it's overly-long. All that pent-up hatred and anger had to be vented on someone, right? :P**

**Now we get to the crux of the plan. I hope you're looking forward to it half as much as I am! I actually can't wait to write the next chapters, but I know I shouldn't start now as I'll be up till silly o'clock as usual, which isn't good for my mental well-being at work these days, alas.**

**I've also come to the realisation that I shouldn't read others' Inception fics while writing my own, as it rather kills my mojo when I start to compare them. :/ Still, we can only work with what we've got, right? I'll do my best to entertain as this story begins its descent into the final chapters (though precisely how many there will be I cannot rightly say.) For now, enjoy super-cool, badass Arthur once more (and picture that look on his face when he's choking the life out of the second guy in zero-gravity in the film! That's probably how he looks in this scene, too) and be on the lookout for the next chapter in a couple of days.  
**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: Just wanted to say a big thank you for everyone's kind words and reviews - you guys really do make waking up in the mornings that much easier! Sad, yes, I know. But it's true. :) Gives me something to look forward to when my alarm buzzes at 6am. It's the little things ...**

**35.**

He opened his eyes and looked around. The streets were vaguely familiar, but not enough to remind him of any one place. The fact that he had no idea how he had got there gave it away immediately – he knew he was dreaming.

The last thing he remembered was staring at a pair of dark, cold eyes, then everything went black. He smiled – smirked would be the better description – and began to walk.

His eyes were drawn to one building – the tallest one around by far, always to his left as he strolled down the empty streets. He came across so many dead-ends and roads blocked off with 'Under Construction' signs that he gave up trying and simply followed the only obvious route. Of course it led to _that_ building. The ploy was obvious, even for an Architect as brilliant as she supposedly was. But he chose to play along anyway, purely to see where it led; what they had in store for him at the end of the maze.

After all, why not? He had no choice in the matter. They had him sedated – if he chose to wait he could be under for days, perhaps even weeks, before waking up again. And even then, he was sure they had his body somewhere _safe_, away from the warehouse by now in case his men showed up. But there was another reason for his compliance ...

Whatever they had cooked up for him, it was _nothing _compared to what Cobol would do should he fail. They had approached him after learning of Cobb's successful escape, and he had happily accepted the job. Their price was reasonable, and they had promised him more lucrative work should he complete the request to their satisfaction. He had followed the trail, learned of Fischer's impending decision to break up the Fischer Morrow empire, put two and two together and come up with a resounding four.

But it was more than just a _job_ this time. They had humiliated him before, evading his men with the help of one he had long considered his closest friend. He had constantly worked in the presence of Cobb's shadow, never excelling as long as the 'best Extractor in the world' was alongside him. He was an ambitious man, always had been, and always would be. This drive had been instilled in him since he was a young boy, his father keen to push him to his limits in order to see him succeed at every possible level. There was no challenge too big for him – nothing was impossible. _Nobody_ was better than him. Until Cobb.

He had worked with him purely out of curiosity. He wanted to learn from the best so he could _be _the best. But even after a whole year in his company, he still hadn't surpassed him. When the opportunity came to take Cobb down a peg or two, he couldn't let it pass him by. And of course, the money was always a good incentive. The Point Man claimed it had nothing to do with their love of the job – and that was a bald-faced lie. _Nobody _went into Extraction _just _for the sheer enjoyment of creating exciting new worlds, not even to experience the ultimate challenge in stealing a man's most precious commodity – his secrets.

No, money was _always _a factor. The work was too dangerous not to warrant a large fee, extra motivation. They were forever treading fine lines – dreams and reality, legal and illegal, moral and immoral. No one person was better than another, no matter how self-righteous they acted. They all deserved the world's contempt, for there was nothing more sacred than a man's dreams, nothing so personal as his subconscious desires. Yet they infiltrated them every day, poking around until they found what they sought and leaving the target oblivious to their sordid actions – or at best confused by his own 'dreams'. One could not enter into the world of Extraction with a guilty conscience, and nor could he leave it as such. Amorality was the most precious quality they could possess. Fortunately for him, he was one of the privileged few.

He stopped at the foot of a sign declaring that the 'Tourist Information' kiosk was one hundred metres ahead of him, around the corner of the row of office buildings and restaurants. He snorted and shook his head. Such an obvious tactic, preying on the confusion of an ordinary Mark and hoping that he would be fooled into trying to discover information the old-fashioned way. But Paul Denley was anything _but _an ordinary Mark.

And he intended to prove it in the most spectacular way possible.

**A/N: Yes, me again! Just a short chapter this time, from Denley's POV. I felt like mixing it up a bit and adding one in here for him, so you can get a little more insight into his (albeit very unlikeable) character before the final showdown. I wanted to make him more sympathetic in some way, but just couldn't really do it. I hope he's not viewed as the stereotypical, completely-evil 'bad guy' though. It wasn't what I was aiming for, though I suppose there's only so much you can do with a character like him! Ah well.**

**Hope you like it anyway, and I should hopefully get the next chapter up when I get back from training tonight (if I go at all, and by the looks of the rain/thunder/lightning, it's looking less likely!) Toodle-pip for now.  
**


	36. Chapter 36

**36.**

Ariadne stood still for a few minutes, trying to familiarise herself with her surroundings. She was surprised to find herself inside a building already, and not out in the street. It appeared to be an empty office block; she was currently standing in the lobby by the receptionist's desk, staring at the large revolving door in front of her. It was made of glass, and she could see through it to the street outside. She thought she spotted someone walking around, but they disappeared from view before she could be sure.

Uncertain what to do with herself, she sat down in the vacant receptionist's chair and waited. For _something _to happen. Voices? Footsteps? _A gunshot ..._

She shuddered at the thought and swivelled the chair around so that it faced in the opposite direction. She wondered, for the umpteenth time that day, why on earth she was even there in the first place. How could it possibly be more dangerous up top than down here? Besides, if she _was _killed in the dream, she would only wake up in the limousine. It was pointless ... and yet she had agreed to Arthur's strange request without protest. He had asked her to do something for him, and she found she couldn't say no.

So here she was, slumped in a rotating chair in a deserted building, waiting for _it_ to happen – the event that made her insides squirm even to think about. _It really doesn't get much better,_ she thought dryly.

She was startled by the sharp footsteps on the floor behind her and spun the chair around again, ignoring the brief dizziness as she twirled a little too quickly. As she had already guessed, Arthur was walking towards her, dressed in a suit almost identical to the one he had worn in the second layer of the Inception – when he had leant towards her, uttered those fatal words ...

'It's nearly time,' Arthur said, interrupting her wandering thoughts. 'Are you okay in here?'

She nodded, desperately trying to hide her trepidation from him. Her stomach knotted as she imagined him standing outside, gun in hand, glaring at their captor with those cold eyes of his. And yet ... they were filled with an incredible warmth as he looked down at her, her knees tucked up onto the chair. Arthur knelt down beside her, his eyes level with hers as he gazed into them.

'It won't take long, I promise,' he said, his voice soft as a whisper. 'And then we'll be free. We won't need to worry about him any longer.'

Again she nodded, silently telling him that she understood; that she appreciated everything he was doing for her. For them all. She could only imagine how hard it was for him, shouldering the burden of guilt, of everyone's hopes. She wished, more than anything, that she could share it with him, to ease the pressure he was inflicting on himself. But she knew he wouldn't let her. And so she watched, and waited, for the time when it would all be over. When they could return to their lives and pretend none of it had ever happened.

Well, almost none of it ...

'I'm sorry,' he muttered. 'I know how much this pains you. But I hope – I _pray_ – that one day you'll be able to forgive me.'

She was aware of his hand, suddenly so close to her face – when had that happened? She felt her heart begin to race as he reached, ever so slowly, towards her cheek. His fingers hovered there, tracing the outline of her jaw without ever making contact with her skin. Her spine tingled in anticipation; her throat was dry as she stared into his dark eyes. So close, _so_ close – she could see every emotion possible flickering there, the depth stealing her breath away. If she could only bring herself to close those last few inches between them ...

But this was a dream. It wasn't real.

_What happens in the dreams stays in the dreams. We don't discuss it once it's finished. It's safer that way._

And what if she wanted something _more _than just a dream? What if she wanted the real thing? What if she wanted ... the real Arthur?

'Ariadne, I ... '

He was so close, _so close_. She only had to extend her hand a few centimetres to touch his pale face, his parted lips.

So very close ...

'_Arthur?'_

The static voice made her jump. Arthur withdrew his hand in a flash, jumping to his feet as he unclipped the radio from his belt.

'Yes?'

'_He's nearly here. I didn't see anyone along the way, though. No sign of Browning yet. Dumb bastard's probably got lost.'_

'Thanks, Eames. Just keep a lookout. He'll get here soon enough.'

He looked down at Ariadne as he fastened the radio to his belt once more, the warmth all but gone from his eyes. He had reverted back to the cool, efficient Point Man he was so used to being. And for once, she didn't mind. He had to be _that person _if they had any hope of pulling this off.

The thought wasn't enough to still her pounding heart, to smother the disappointment she felt in the pit of her stomach.

'Just wait here, okay? I'll be back soon. And ... cover your ears, if you don't want to hear.'

She hardly had time to nod before he was off again, marching through the revolving door and out into the street. She watched as a dark-suited, blonde man walked into view, stopping right in the middle of the doorway. She could only see the left side of his face as he stood there, metres away from her building, hands deep in his pockets.

She twisted the chair around again, tucking her knees up as far as they could go. She clamped her hands over her ears and waited for the bullet to crack through the air. The signal that it was finally over.

But it never came.

**A/N: I couldn't very well leave you with Denley, could I? That would be mean. A little A/A here for you, before things kick off! Calm before the storm, perhaps? You shall have to wait and see!**

**As my training's now been cancelled, I have the rest of the night to work on the next chapter, so who knows - I may even be able to get 3 up tonight. Not like I feel like doing anything else anyway. :) Writing has pretty much become my nightly routine the last 3 weeks, and I'm loving it. It's so good to be so enthused by a story again. Now just to transfer that to my other non-fanfic ones ...  
**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: I did it! Third chapter written and uploaded tonight. I was so desperate to get this up before I went to sleep. So I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing it. :)**

**37.**

Arthur stepped outside the office building as Denley came to a stop in front of the door. He heard Cobb move closer, his shoes clicking on the tarmac beneath his feet. Arthur walked in an arc around Denley, his eyes never leaving the smiling man, and stood next to his partner.

'Well, isn't this nice,' Denley said. 'All together again in another dream. Just like old times.'

Arthur kept one hand behind his back, his fingers resting on the butt of the Glock 17 tucked into his waistband. He wasn't taking any chances; not this time.

'Where's my good friend Robert then, hmm?' Denley mused. 'I thought he would be here to greet me, too. To see my glorious downfall.'

'_I'm right above you, buddy. One false move and I'll blow your bloody head off.'_

Denley chuckled as Eames' voice crackled over Arthur's radio. 'Ah, a talk-all radio. How quaint. I should have guessed, this being your dream and all, Arthur.'

'It's Eames', actually,' Arthur replied. 'I suppose he wanted to be able to hear everything you say before we take you down for good.'

'Yes, I'm sure he's got a few choice words for me. A shame he was never quite as eloquent as you.'

'_I can see every damn hair on your head, pal. You really _don't _want to push me.'_

'And none of that famed British reservation, either,' Denley sneered. 'Such a shame.' He looked between Arthur and Cobb, spreading his palms out towards them. 'Well, what are we waiting for? You're here to kill me, are you not?'

Arthur kept his expression blank as he gripped the handle of the gun. _Not yet, _he urged himself. He forced the temptation from his mind as he watched Denley shift his weight from one foot to the other.

'We're waiting for someone,' Cobb said. 'He should be here soon.'

'_Actually, he's already here. Just up the street.'_

Arthur peered around Denley to find Browning marching toward them, staring at the buildings around him as though utterly lost. He quickened his pace when he spotted the trio, stopping a few feet from Denley.

'Where the hell are we?' he demanded, glaring at both Arthur and Cobb in turn. 'What have you done to me?'

'You're in a dream, old man,' Denley replied before either one could open their mouth. 'Quite marvellous, isn't it?'

'What the fuck do you mean, a dream? Why are you lot here then?'

Denley sighed and shook his head, rolling his eyes at Arthur and Cobb. He muttered something that sounded like 'amateurs' as he looked away from the angry businessman. Arthur said nothing. He watched both men like a hawk, scrutinising their every movement, each breath they took. His fingers twitched on the trigger of the gun, ready to whip it out in case something unexpected should happen.

'If I may,' Denley began, looking Arthur in the eye again, 'I have a simple question.' He waited for the Point Man's nod, which never came. 'Why didn't you just kill us up there instead of devising such an elaborate scheme? It's rather over-the-top, particularly for you, wouldn't you say?'

Browning snapped his head up to look at Denley, his eyes wide as he spluttered at him. 'What the hell do you mean, _kill _us?' He turned to glare at Arthur. 'I told you, boy, you're in way over your head.'

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at him, unable to help the small smirk that lifted one corner of his mouth. 'Spare us the threats,' he sighed. 'You're really in no position to be making them. One bullet to your head and you'll be in an effective coma for the next ten years, until you finally wake up with no memory and little mind to speak of.'

He wasn't being _entirely_ truthful – nobody knew precisely how long the Limbo-coma would last, after all – but his words had the desired effect on the businessman. He pursed his lips together and remained silent. Arthur could see his hands trembling as he clenched them into fists by his sides. The sight made his heart sing. _Serves you right, you arrogant bastard._

'Well?' Denley prompted. 'Are you going to answer me or not? It makes little difference. I'm simply curious as to your way of thinking.'

'We're not like you, Denley,' Arthur said, his voice hard once more. 'We're not murderers. Projections are one thing, but living, breathing people are a different matter completely.'

'Oh, please, spare me the moral lecture,' Denley groaned. 'It's far too hypocritical to be convincing.'

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the man, the fingers of his left hand flexing around the cool metal; those of his right hand clutching the die in his pocket, gripping it until his palm began to hurt. He forced himself to stay calm, to _wait _– but for what, exactly? He knew what he should do. He _knew _the best thing was to send a bullet into Denley's head and be done with it. But something was stopping him. He had waited so long for this moment, and now ... he wanted to savour every second.

'It's too messy,' he said with a shrug. 'Leaving bodies in your wake ... someone will notice eventually. Though I doubt anyone would miss _you _too much.'

He felt rather than saw Cobb move a step nearer to him, his shoulder mere inches away from Arthur's own. He knew without asking – it was a show of solidarity from the one person he had grown to call his 'friend' over the years. Whatever happened, Dom was by his side, there to back him up as he always was. The thought comforted him more than he would have imagined possible.

'_What are you waiting for?'_

Eames' voice crackled through the tension-filled air. Everyone stared at the radio clipped to Arthur's belt, as though waiting for the Forger to speak again.

'_Just shoot him, for crying out loud. Let's get this over and done with. If you don't hurry up, _I'll _do it and deprive you of the pleasure.'_

Arthur heard Denley chuckle again and raised his head to look at him.

'He was never very subtle,' he sighed. 'Still, I suppose it doesn't much matter when you can morph into anyone you please. Such a rare gift. But there, that's all in the past now. What matters is the present. And the future, of course.'

'_What the hell are you babbling about?'_

Arthur watched as Denley's eyes crinkled at the corners, a grin splitting his face. Something about the way the Extractor was looking at him made his spine tingle, the hairs on his forearms prickling with a sudden heat. What was he missing?

'Have you not noticed yet?' Denley asked, his voice soft, threatening even. 'Look around you. What's different?'

Arthur flicked his eyes over his surroundings, then back to his target. The buildings were all the same, as far as he could tell. Not a single window was out of place. Eames had done a fantastic job of replicating the maze.

'It's awfully quiet here, don't you think?' Denley continued. 'No footsteps, no voices, no-one going about their daily subconscious business. No-one glaring at Robert up there, I assume?'

Arthur looked around him again, desperately trying to figure out Denley's cryptic taunts. Of course there was no-one around. They were in the centre of the maze, somewhere the projections wouldn't find them for ages.

Arthur felt his heart skip a beat.

_The projections ..._

'Ah, you've cottoned on,' Denley chuckled. 'I knew it wouldn't take your quick mind too long.'

'Of course there aren't any projections around,' Arthur said. 'Ariadne designed it so they'd be kept out as long as possible.'

'Oh, naturally. But it _was _rather odd that I didn't see a single one on the way here, either. I mean, a dream without a single projection ... who would have thought?'

Arthur felt as though he had just been kicked in the gut. Denley's words rang in his ears as his head swam, registering the unthinkable possibility. _No, he couldn't have ..._

He barely heard Browning's renewed demands for an explanation. Cobb put a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly as he tried to steady the dazed Point Man.

'Arthur, don't listen to him,' Dom whispered in his ear. 'He's bluffing. You know what he's like.'

'_What the hell's going on down there?'_

'Do you really want to take that chance?' Denley asked, addressing Cobb. 'It's an awfully big risk to gamble on.'

Arthur whipped his gun out from his trousers and aimed it at Denley's forehead. He could feel his chest heaving with the effort to steady his own breathing. It wasn't possible. When could he have done it? Arthur himself had been watching the case the whole time; his eyes never left it unless he went to the bathroom, or ...

_Or when someone else took it for 'maintenance'._

'You understand now, don't you?' Denley whispered. 'You know what's going on here.'

'You son of a bitch,' Arthur growled. 'How did you sedate us without us knowing?'

'_What the _fuck _are you lot talking about?'_

Arthur ignored Eames' strained demands, focusing all of his energy on the blonde man in front of him. His hands were steady as he pointed the barrel of the Glock at his head, square between the eyes. _One false move ..._

'Arthur, what _are _you talking about?' Cobb muttered. 'We're not sedated. _They _are.'

Denley let out a loud laugh, the sound echoing around the empty cul-de-sac. 'Yes, we are. But so are you, my friend. Do you not see? My men – incompetent, mercenary fools though they are – did their job perfectly. They didn't take the PASIV for a maintenance check. They followed my orders and slipped our own brand of sedative into the mixture. Just in case you decided to try anything foolish during the Inception, you see. It seems my instincts were right.'

'_What are you waiting for? Just shoot him already, for Christ's sake!'_

Arthur cocked the gun, taking a step forward so that he could see the Extractor's dark eyes more clearly. He wanted to see the spark leave them as he killed him, to know that _he _had put an end to the bastard once and for all.

'I wouldn't do that, if I were you,' Denley warned him, his voice silky, menacing. 'Not unless you want to lose something very precious to you.'

Arthur barely had time to contemplate his ominous words before he heard the soft _swish_ of the door to his right. He snapped his head round, feeling his heart drop out of his chest at the sight that met his eyes.

Ariadne was being dragged toward the small group by a suited, balaclava-wearing guard, the barrel of his pistol pressed firmly to her left temple. He flinched when he saw the cut above her eye, a single string of blood trickling down her cheek. She caught his eye as she was hauled next to Denley, and he could see the utter terror there, the plea for help that he couldn't answer. His head started to throb, the blood pounding in his ears as his brain fought to keep up.

'It seems we have a stalemate,' Denley sighed. 'What to do?

'Let her go,' Cobb snarled, taking a step towards him.

Denley held out his hand, a silent command to stop. 'Uh uh, I'm calling the shots now. You just stay right where you are. Unless you want the death of this poor girl on your conscience.' Arthur felt a wave of nausea wash over him at the triumphant smirk on his face. 'And Robert? Don't try anything stupid up there. If even one bullet comes this way I won't hesitate to shoot. And neither will he,' he added, gesturing to Ariadne's mysterious captor.

Arthur's radio was silent. Nobody dared utter a word as they tried to wrap their heads around the sudden change in the situation. How had they lost control? How had the momentum swung in Denley's favour in the blink of an eye?

'I thought you said there were no projections?' Cobb said, apparently trying to restore some sense of reason to the conversation. 'Why's he here if that's the case?'

Again Denley chuckled, clearly enjoying the change in fortunes. 'Ah, that's the clever part. You see, the sedative _you _used is rather ordinary. Yes, it leaves the inner ear function uninhibited, which is very impressive. But other than that it does nothing whilst you're _in_ the dream. But _mine_ – it's the same one I used on the young lady here' – Arthur forced himself to remain still as Denley reached out to stroke Ariadne's cheek; she tried to wrench her head away, with no luck – 'and Robert when we tried to perform those Extractions on them. It suppresses the subconscious, rendering it incapable of creating projections. Well, except her lovely recreation of _you_, of course,' he added, flashing Arthur a quick grin. 'That was – quite adorable, I must say. Infuriating, of course, but fascinating nonetheless.'

'That still doesn't explain how _your_ projection is here,' Cobb insisted. 'We didn't use your subconscious as the primary to fill the dream.'

'No, of course not. But as your' – he gestured to each of them in turn – 'subs were unable to populate the dream, mine filled in. I'm sure Browning's here would have helped, too, but mine was too strong. It overpowered his.'

'But _no-one_ can control their subconscious. And Ariadne's not the dreamer, so why is he holding _her_ hostage instead of attacking Eames?'

'Ah, now we get to the good part!' Denley laughed. 'It's just a little trick I picked up in the intervening years. You see, I _am _better than you Cobb, whether you like to admit it or not. It just took a lasting separation for me to realise that potential. I've learned to control my projections for brief periods at a time. Not very long right now, but it's getting better. I mean, if we can experience lucid dreaming, and can change aspects of that dream as we see fit, why can we not apply that to _shared_ dreams? That was my theory. And so far it's proving a huge success.'

He let out a loud, harsh laugh again, the sound grating at Arthur's ears as he squeezed his eyes shut. _No, this can't be happening. I checked ... I checked everything. Nothing could go wrong ..._

But there were _so many variables, so many chances to make a mistake. Was it really any wonder it had gone so wrong?_

The déjà vu hit him as another wave of nausea rippled up from his stomach. Why hadn't he shot Denley straight away? It was his fault, as usual. He had messed up again, and now Ariadne ...

He snapped his eyes open and stared straight at her. Her dark eyes were filled with unshed tears, with a raw fear he had never seen before. It was enough to tear his heart into pieces. She let out a soft whimper as the projection tugged at her hair, pulling her head back to stop her from looking at the Point Man. Arthur felt the fire burning again, deep down, rising like bile up his throat. He couldn't take it much longer ...

'You're despicable,' he snarled, glaring at Denley with all the fury he could muster.

'You see, that's the difference between you and I. You're all too soft. Your ridiculous, skewed sense of morality holds you back in this profession. You'll never see the bigger picture. You'll never achieve the greatest prize.' Before Arthur had the chance to react, Denley had whipped a gun out from his jacket and pressed it to Ariadne's other temple. 'Because you're not willing to do what's _really_ necessary.'

The bullet exploded out of the barrel with a crack that shattered the last dregs of Arthur's resolve.

**A/N: I couldn't leave without a brief note here. I'm so cruel, I know, to leave you at such a point. If it wasn't so late right now I'd write the next chapter. But alas, we shall all have to wait until tomorrow!**

**My heart was actually racing as I typed up those last few sentences. And my fingers are trembling now as I write this! I've been waiting for SUCH a long time to get to this point, so I hope it lived up to expectations.**

**All this adrenaline is rather exhausting, so I shall leave it here and bid you all a goodnight! See you soon for the next installment. :)  
**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: First off, I'll just say how pleased I was to see how much you all hated me after the last chapter! Hehe. It shows I did something right (hopefully) and left you wanting more. So, without further ado, here it is! Especially for you guys. Do forgive me. ;)**

**38.**

Everything happened so fast.

Arthur was aware of blood – lots and lots of blood. But whose?

He thought he heard two shots, one a split second before the other. Further away, but somehow louder, more terrifying.

His eyes immediately sought Ariadne. He had expected her to be blown sideways from the force of Denley's shot, but she wasn't. She stumbled backwards, clutching her chest, and collapsed to the ground.

Arthur heard Denley's deep voice, cursing, shouting, but his mind was too addled to make out any words. He glanced up to find the Extractor holding his right shoulder, blood gushing from a gaping wound, staining his forearm a dark crimson. He hesitated – what should he do? He wanted to check on Ariadne, to hold her in his arms and make sure that she was all right.

He changed his mind when he saw Denley stoop to pick up his dropped gun, his eyes fixed on the Point Man.

Another shot cracked through the air. Denley's projection crumpled to the floor.

_Eames?_ Arthur gazed up at the skyscraper above him, but it was pointless – the Forger was too high up to see from the ground. He looked back down to find Denley getting to his feet, a pistol gripped in his blood-soaked hand. He whipped his own gun up, level with the Extractor's head. His finger rested on the trigger, ready to squeeze ...

Bullets flew through the air around him, smashing into the concrete at his feet. He had a vague moment of surprise when he realised that none had so far hit him in the confusion, before movement behind Denley caught his eye.

Browning was motionless, huddled on the ground to avoid the projectiles.

Cobb was still next to Arthur, apparently as stunned as he was, and as unable to move.

Ariadne was still lying on the floor. She was bleeding. Oh God, was she bleeding ...

But what caught Arthur's eye was something else entirely. He stared, dumbstruck, as a suited, slick-haired man crept towards Denley, his gun aimed at the back of the Extractor's head. Denley seemed oblivious to his current plight, his dark eyes still fixed on the Point Man before him, his breathing laboured as he fought against the loss of blood.

'No,' Arthur heard himself murmur. 'No, it can't be ... she doesn't need him. He's not _supposed _to be here.'

A flash of black – Arthur snapped his head up. More of Denley's projections were closing in on them. Fast. Who to aim at?

He watched as his doppelganger spun around and fired three shots – one, two three, each one finding their mark in the projections' foreheads. _My God ... he's lethal._

Denley whipped his head around at the sound. He let off two bullets of his own, right into the imitation's chest. It barely flinched; only lowered its aim and blasted another round into the Extractor's kneecap. Denley collapsed to the floor with a howl of pain, his gun forgotten as he clutched at both wounds, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood.

Arthur's double snapped its eyes up to look at him. The Point Man couldn't repress the shudder that rippled through his body; it was like looking in a mirror, except for the eyes ...

They were cold, lifeless. It had no soul, no humanity. It was a simple killing machine, nothing more.

Again the thought pierced his mind – was this really how Ariadne viewed him? A soulless, mindless automaton, designed only to destroy? No, even _he _wasn't that cold. She had seen his softer side, hadn't she? She had seen the warmth in his eyes – he had been so desperate to show her ...

'What the _fuck _is he doing here?' Denley choked, his breathing ragged as he tried to look at the intruder. 'Ugh ... only my – projections are ... supposed to be here.'

The replica stared at him again, with those cold, cold eyes. It whipped its gun up and aimed at Denley's head once more.

'No!' Arthur found himself shouting, taking a step towards his double. The cool eyes focused on his, the expression blank as a fresh canvas. 'No, leave him. Take out his projections.'

Arthur jumped as another bullet cracked through the air. One of Denley's guards crumpled in the distance. The sound seemed to spur Cobb into action. Arthur winced as his partner gripped his shoulder.

'Arthur, go to her,' Cobb urged. 'We'll take care of the men.'

Arthur didn't need telling twice. He sprinted over to Ariadne and collapsed to his knees next to her, only half-aware of his double and partner striding past him.

'Ariadne?' he breathed, his eyes raking over her bloody t-shirt. 'Oh God, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry ... '

'A-Arthur,' she gasped, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. She held out her hand to him; he clasped it between both his own. 'Why ... ?'

Arthur frowned. _Why what?_ Did he even want to hear the end of the question? Why had he screwed up _yet again_? Why had he broken his promise to protect her _yet again_? Why, when he was usually so faultless in his job, had he failed at his duties ... _yet again_?

He shook his head and fixed his eyes on hers, trying to apologise with more than just empty words. He felt a lump swell in his throat as he saw the sheer terror there, the pain and ... disappointment. His hands trembled around hers as he leant closer to her, trying not to look at the gaping hole in her chest.

'I'm here, it's okay,' he whispered. 'You – you'll be all right.'

And now he was lying to her. An outright, bald-faced lie. She wasn't stupid. She knew how bad the situation was. He was only trying to kid himself.

'D-don't leave ... me,' she choked.

'I won't,' Arthur assured her. 'I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here.'

He felt his stomach tighten as she began to cough, spitting out a globule of blood. His head started to pound again; he thought it would split apart at any second. _What the fuck can I do?_ For once he felt completely helpless. He had no idea _what _to do, or even what to say. What _could _he say?

Arthur froze as he heard the sound of footsteps above the snap of bullets. He would recognise those shoes anywhere. He raised his eyes from Ariadne's to find his doppelganger striding towards them, stopping only to plant another bullet into one of Denley's projections. It looked from Arthur, to Ariadne, and then to Denley. Again it raised its pistol and aimed at the Extractor's head, as though its only mission was to kill the man.

'I told you, no!' Arthur barked at him. 'Leave him to me.'

He glanced back at Ariadne – now convulsing violently beneath him as the blood seeped from her wound and pooled beneath her body – then jumped to his feet. He ignored the odd sense of loss he felt when he let go of her hand and snatched his gun up from the floor beside his foot. With a composure he thought impossible, he moved to stand over Denley, still gasping for breath, his eyes burning with a loathing Arthur had never seen before. It would have stunned him had he been able to feel anything.

'You ... bastard,' Denley spat, blood as well as words falling from his mouth. 'Still ... you didn't ... get it all your own way ... did you?'

His chuckle quickly turned into a cough as he choked on the blood in his throat. Arthur saw his replica raise his gun out of the corner of his eye, but held his hand out – a silent command not do anything more.

With a last look into the man's dark eyes, he levelled his own gun at Denley's head and squeezed the trigger. He died with a smirk on his face that only made Arthur's heart beat faster.

'A-Arthur ... '

The Point Man spun around, dropping to the floor by Ariadne's side once more. She was breathing so fast now – so fast she could barely speak, only stare at him with eyes that were starting to flutter. They closed, then opened, and closed again.

'No, Ariadne, stay with me,' he urged. 'Don't close your eyes. Fight it!'

Arthur knew it was useless. There was nothing she could do – nothing _he _could do as he watched the life slip from her. He couldn't even hear the bullets anymore – only her ragged breathing, her gasps as she tried to force a few last words out. He reached down with his left hand and cupped her cheek, so cold beneath his fingers. It wouldn't be long now ...

He made the mistake of looking up at his imitation again. The cold eyes bore into his, almost ... accusing him.

'You don't need him anymore,' Arthur murmured without looking at her. '_I'm _here. I'll find you, I promise. I'll come and get you, wherever you are.'

The replica nodded once, a sharp movement of the head. Arthur watched as he flickered, just as Eames had done when morphing from Browning all those days – weeks? Months? – ago.

And then he disappeared, popped out of existence in the blink of an eye.

Arthur felt as though he had been stabbed, his heart wrenching with the realisation.

He knew, even before looking down at her. He knew.

She was gone.

**A/N: Yes, I know. I know. I saved Ariadne from Limbo only to kick her back down. I apologise. But, if it helps, the next chapter will be up at the same time as this one (I decided to split it in two - for dramatic effect, you understand!) So what are you waiting for? Go read now! :P**


	39. Chapter 39

**39.**

Arthur stared down at Ariadne's now-motionless body. Every limb felt numb. His once-hammering heart had stopped, briefly, as comprehension dawned on him.

'Oh, Jesus,' he muttered. 'Fuck, this is all my fault. I'm sorry, Ari. I'm _so sorry._'

He gripped her hand, so cold now, and waited ...

Waited ... but for what?

She wasn't coming back. Not here. Not now. _Not ever._

He reached out and gently closed her eyelids, shielding her glassy eyes from his own. They were no longer hers. They didn't hold the boundless wonder, the incredible warmth they had once done. They only reflected his own guilt, his own anguish back at him, like a mirror – like his replica.

Arthur jumped at the sound of the hurried footsteps to his left. He looked up to find Eames jogging over to him, his eyes fixed on the lifeless body of their Architect beneath his hands.

'Oh God, no,' the Forger muttered. 'That fucking son of a bitch.'

'Is she all right?' Arthur heard Cobb call out as he ran over to them.

Eames shook his head as Arthur glanced at Ariadne, at the large crimson patch staining the whole of her torso. He swallowed the bile that crept up his throat and forced himself to look away.

'Shit,' Cobb murmured. 'This is _not_ good.'

'You don't say, Sherlock?' Eames said, his sarcasm biting at Arthur's ears. 'And you – why the _hell_ didn't you shoot him straight away? Why let him prattle on and bring his own goddamn projections into the dream? This is your fucking fault.'

Arthur jumped to his feet, his fist clenched, ready to smack the Forger square between the eyes. But he couldn't do it. He could see his own anger, his own misery reflected back at him in the man's gaze.

'Why didn't _you_ shoot him?' he demanded, out of a need to say _something _than because he truly wanted an answer.

'You told me not to, remember?' Eames retorted. 'You wanted to do it yourself. So I waited, until it was too fucking late. I mean, for Christ's sake Arthur, how many opportunities do you need to put a damn bullet in someone's head? Take a leaf out of your twin's book next time.'

Arthur felt each word like a knife, cutting into his already guilt-ridden conscience. He said nothing, for there was really _nothing_ to say. He didn't know why he had hesitated. All he knew was that his indecision had cost him dearly. And now ... he had to make up for it, one way or another.

'I dragged my arse up twenty flights of stairs with _this_' – Eames brandished the sniper rifle still clutched between his hands – 'only for you to screw up anyway. Well, thanks a lot, pal. A fucking great plan this was, if the ringleader can't even do his job properly.'

'Enough,' Cobb shot at him, glaring at the Forger by way of warning. 'This isn't helping. We've got to figure out what we're going to do now.'

'It's a shame his creepy twin isn't still here. Maybe he'd have more bottle.'

Arthur flexed his sore fingers, itching to wrap them around his tormentor's neck. But Cobb had stepped between them, holding his hands out as a barricade before he had the chance to act on his angry desire.

'What the hell _was_ that, anyway?' Cobb asked, addressing his partner. 'I thought none of us could produce projections here? Or was Denley bluffing?'

Eames shook his head, saving Arthur the effort. 'Nope. He's popped up before, several times. When I was sharing dreams with her. He seems to defy the logic of the sedative. I mean, did you _see_ Denley's face? He was as gobsmacked as we were.'

'So her subconscious managed to break through the sedative's effects and _still _create a bodyguard? Impressive.'

Arthur wanted to scream at them, to ask how they could possibly stand there debating so rationally when his own heart had been ripped to shreds. How could they be so calm at a time like this? His own composure had deserted him once more, leaving his emotions bare, there for all to see, to mock, to marvel at. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in five long years ...

'It must take a powerful connection to pull off something like that,' Cobb continued. 'A strong attachment of some kind, one not easily broken by simple chemicals.'

Eames and Cobb both glanced at Arthur; he could see the wonder, the intense pity in both their eyes. It only made him feel worse.

'So ... what do we do?' the Forger asked, looking between his two companions. 'I mean, there's no point just standing around here. We've got to come up with another plan of action.'

'I'm going under,' Arthur said suddenly, the decision flashing through his mind, as though he had known all along.

Cobb's brow furrowed as he scrutinised his partner's face. 'What? What do you mean?'

'I'm going after her.'

Eames' eyebrows shot up, a small smile tugging at his lips as he considered the Point Man's words. They had the opposite effect on Cobb, who immediately began to shake his head.

'Arthur, no. That's _not_ a good idea. It's far too dangerous. You could get lost in there, perhaps forever. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about.'

'I don't care,' Arthur spat. 'Do you honestly expect me to just _leave _her down there? It's my fault she ended up there in the first place, Dom. I insisted she come along, thinking it was for the best, thinking _I_ would be able to protect her. If I'd have just let her do what she wanted and stay behind, none of this would have happened.'

'Arthur ... '

'No, Dom, not now,' Arthur snapped. 'I don't care what you say. Quite frankly, I think you're a filthy hypocrite for even suggesting such a thing. Or have you forgotten that she risked _her_ neck to help _you _in Limbo?'

Cobb fell silent. Apparently Arthur's scathing words had hit home.

'It's the least I can do,' he said, quietly this time. 'Even if I have to search for decades, I won't give up. I won't be able to forgive myself if I don't at least _try_. I _promised _her ... '

He flinched as Eames clapped his hands and began rubbing them together, a large grin splitting his face. 'That's more like it,' he said cheerfully. 'So come on, what're we waiting for?'

Arthur snapped his eyes up at the Forger, his brow furrowed into a deep frown. 'What do you mean, _we_?'

'For such an intelligent man, you can be quite dense sometimes,' Eames sighed. 'You really think I'm letting you go down there alone? Guess again, darling.'

'What? But – no ... there's no need for – '

'Shut up,' Eames interrupted. 'Now look – Cobb here has his kids to get back to. Yusuf has _his _daughter. And Saito has his stupid company to go save again. Who do you and I have, eh? Except each other, of course.' He gave the Point Man a quick wink. 'I told you once before, I grew rather fond of our young Architect during those dreams we shared – though, not quite as fond as _you_, mind – and I'll be buggered if I'm going to stand around twiddling my thumbs whilst you go off and play the hero alone.'

Again Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Eames stopped him, clamping his hand over the Point Man's mouth. He ignored the stunned glare Arthur threw him as he wrenched it away.

'You don't have a choice, buddy. I'll follow you whether you agree to it or not. And then I'll just hound you more when we get down there. What a fun search party _that'll _be.'

Arthur heaved a sigh and nodded, knowing it was best to accept the offer rather than attempt to argue further. Perhaps it wouldn't be _so_ bad – after all, they always said two heads were better than one. Now was the perfect time to test that theory. A little company wouldn't hurt.

'What about me?' Cobb asked.

'The dream will collapse as soon as I shoot myself,' Eames said matter-of-factly. 'You'll just wake up back in the limo with the others. Make sure they've taken us some place safe. We may not get back for a while. Oh, and make sure you deal with _him_, too.'

He jerked his thumb at Browning, still kneeling on the floor, a stunned look on his wrinkled face. Eames shook his head and let out a derisive snort.

'Not so tough now, are you?' he spat. 'Going to think about chasing us around the world after this?' Browning said nothing, only stared up at the Forger through panic-stricken eyes. 'No, I didn't think so. Stupid bastard.'

The others ignored the one-sided exchange. Cobb glanced at Arthur, his lingering doubt plain to see. Arthur simply nodded and bent down to pick up his discarded gun.

'If you're sure ... ' Cobb said, looking between the two determined men.

'Mate, I've never been more sure about anything in my life,' Eames replied solemnly. 'If I can tolerate our resident stick-in-the-mud for a few decades or so, I think we're on to a winner.'

Cobb smiled at him, though Arthur noted it didn't quite reach his eyes. He was worried – of course he was. What they were suggesting was crazy, and yet it was their only option. He _would not _abandon her. He _couldn't_. Not after everything they had been through. He would fulfil his promise if it killed him. _One way or another ..._

'I guess I'll be seeing you then,' Cobb sighed.

He held his hand out to Eames, who grasped it in a firm handshake before stepping back to pick up Denley's gun for himself. Arthur waited as Cobb turned to him, hesitated, then threw his arms around his back. He paused, stunned by the sudden show of affection, before patting his partner on the shoulder. The embrace was brief, but tight, enough to convey the unbreakable bond that had built up between them over the years. Yes, this was a man Arthur could call his friend. He wondered how he had ever doubted it.

Cobb stepped away from him and nodded his head. 'Good luck. Don't waste any time. She _needs _you, Arthur. I think – more than you know.'

Arthur tried not to dwell on the words as he pressed the cold barrel to his temple. He gave Cobb a quick, tight smile, then looked over at Eames. The Forger had imitated his action, holding his own pistol to the side of his head.

With one last glance at Ariadne's lifeless body, Arthur closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger.

**A/N: Why does it seem like every chapter ends with someone being shot/shooting themselves/going into a dream? Hmm. It's just such a good thing to leave it on, and considering how often these guys do it, it's no wonder! Ah well. I hope you can forgive and understand the repetition. Next chapter should be up tomorrow night, unless I go out and don't have the time to write it. It'll be partly written in my head whilst at work, so we shall see! Toodles for now, and have a totally spiffing evening (ah, British stereotype at its finest.) :)**


	40. Chapter 40

**40.**

She could hear water.

Lots of water.

She hardly noticed that her clothes were soaked, her sodden hair clinging to her face as she stumbled across the wet sand.

There were buildings.

Lots of crumbling buildings.

They seemed vaguely familiar. But she didn't know where from.

She walked, and walked ... and walked, down a long pitted road, until her feet began to ache.

She spied a nearby bench and collapsed onto it, allowing the sound of the distant waves to lull her to sleep.

She woke minutes later – or was it hours? Perhaps even days? – to the sound of an explosion in her ears. She snapped her head around, looking for the source. But there was no-one there. Only her, alone on a bench.

Where had it come from? What _was _it? It, too, was familiar. But terrifying. She felt a tremble start in her chest, rippling outwards until her whole body was overcome. Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't know why.

Why was she crying?

Why was she here?

_Where _was she?

She looked up at the disintegrating buildings, each one grey, dull.

_No imagination._

She caught herself smiling, and wondered why.

Images flashed through her mind, vivid and yet blurry at the same time, as though viewed through a frosty window.

A crisp white shirt.

A pair of dark eyes.

Shiny black shoes.

A red die.

She reached into her pocket and felt something cool, smooth. A bronze bishop. Without knowing why, she propped it on the bench beside her leg.

And pushed.

It didn't budge.

She frowned. She had been expecting _something _to happen.

But nothing did.

Perhaps it wasn't meant to.

She shivered as a cool breeze whipped around her, lashing her hair against her cheeks. She looked up at the bleak sky above, all dark clouds and impending rain.

She should move.

But where to go?

She stood up and started to walk again. To walk, without a real purpose. Without knowing her destination.

Because it felt like the right thing to do.

She didn't notice the small chess piece standing resolutely on the bench. Refusing to topple even though the howling wind was enough to tear yet more layers from the crumbling buildings around her.

By the time she rounded the corner, she had forgotten all about bishops and shoes and crisp white shirts.

One thought beat in her mind like a drum: _Where am I?_

And then another, more persistent than the first: Who _am I?_

**A/N: Hello all! Just a short one from me this time. I wanted to experiment with Ariadne's POV in - where else? - Limbo. I realise she's only just arrived, but bear with me. Things will be explained in the coming chapters regarding her disorientation etc. I don't think I'll be able to get the next one up until tomorrow night at the earliest now, which is a shame, but I shall work on it as often as I can and try my best. Ciao for now! :)**_  
_


	41. Chapter 41

**41.**

Arthur spluttered as he pushed himself to his feet, stumbling as the waves crashed over him. He could feel his clothes clinging to every inch of his body, wrapping him in a chill that penetrated his very bones. His usually immaculate hair stuck to his head, splayed in different directions and even flatter than usual. He shivered and swept his eyes around him.

Twenty feet away another figure was scrambling to _their _feet, shaking their arms in an effort to rid themselves of some of the wetness. _Eames_. Arthur dragged his legs through the water, staggering towards his companion. He was out of breath by the time he reached him, his lungs working hard to draw in the necessary oxygen. If such a thing even existed in the dreamscape. _Don't be stupid, _he chided himself. _Of course it doesn't. This isn't real. None of it._ No matter how eerily realistic the water felt as it collided with his chest. No matter how biting the wind that whipped around them. No matter how his legs ached with the effort it took simply to stand.

_This isn't real ..._

'Well, if I'd have known we'd _literally _be washed up on the shore of our own subconscious, I might have dressed for the occasion,' Eames grumbled, shedding his jacket and attempting to ring it out.

Arthur allowed himself a small smile as he watched the Forger's futile efforts. He looked down at his own attire, for once regretting the choice of an expensive three-piece suit complete with silk tie and black dress shoes. _The perfect outfit to be traipsing around Limbo in, _he thought, shaking his head.

'I did wonder if the bastard was bluffing,' Eames continued, pulling his sodden jacket back on with a sigh. 'I hoped we might wake up in the limo to Yusuf's bloody awful driving, after all. But here we are ...'

Arthur shook his head again, trying not to allow himself to dwell on the '_what if_s' of the situation. 'Come on,' he muttered. 'The longer we take the worse it'll be.'

Eames nodded. Arthur didn't need to explain the double meaning behind his words. They both knew what they had to do. It was actually _doing _it that was going to prove the most difficult. Where did they even start their search? They had no idea just how big Limbo was – perhaps it was infinite? If one used a greater proportion of their brain capacity when asleep, then who could say just how vast one's own subconscious was?

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the thoughts from his mind, before trudging towards the shoreline. He could hear Eames splashing along behind him, following his lead without a word.

They paused for a few minutes once they were finally free from the water's pull. Eames bent down, his hands on his knees as he fought to get his breath back.

'So ... this is Cobb's world, huh?' he wheezed, looking around at the dilapidated buildings that surrounded them. 'Gotta say – it's a bit dreary for my liking. No colour to it.'

Arthur rolled his eyes. Only Eames could come up with such wisecracks in a situation as dire as the one they now found themselves in. And yet ... he realised that he was actually grateful for the Forger's flippancy. It saved him from being swamped by his own miserable thoughts – something that was sure to help in their arduous search.

He waited until Eames had straightened up again before setting off, following the one path available to them – a long pitted road that seemed to lead right into the heart of the decrepit city.

They walked for a while – was it minutes, or hours? – in comfortable silence, each one taking in their surroundings with some distaste – and perhaps a little apprehension. Everywhere looked the same; each building resembled its neighbour, to the extent that Arthur became convinced they hadn't moved forwards at all. It was only when he looked over his shoulder that he realised just how far they had come from the shoreline. He felt his heart sink a little in his chest as one thought clawed at his mind: how on earth were they going to distinguish one area from the next?

'Whew, I'm beat already,' Eames sighed, coming to a sudden stop beside Arthur. 'Mind if we sit down for a moment?'

Arthur hesitated. He knew how costly a break would be. He could almost hear the ticking of a clock, the monotonous sound reverberating in his ears whenever he happened to think about it too much. Time was very much against them down here – but at least they had an infinite supply of it.

'Sure,' he said finally. 'There's a bench over there. Take a few minutes out.'

Eames nodded gratefully and trotted over to the nearby seat. He stopped before sitting down, staring at something in front of him.

'Er ... Arthur? I think you should come and take a look at this.'

Arthur frowned at the uncertainty in the Forger's voice and walked over to peer down at the bench. A faint glint caught his eye. A tiny object sat alone on the chipped wood, refusing to move despite the howling wind that raged around them.

He felt his heart give one almighty thump as he realised what it was.

_Ariadne's totem._

Without thinking he snatched it up off the bench and brought it closer to his face. He inspected it from every angle, clutching it in his hand as though afraid to let it go.

'This ... isn't good,' he muttered. 'If she doesn't have this on her there's no way for her to tell that this _isn't _reality.'

'It's not always about the totem, though,' Eames said, gazing down at the small chess piece in the Point Man's hand. 'It's easier to lose yourself in Limbo when you're alone. There's no-one to remind you that it isn't real. Or even who you are.'

Arthur nodded, reluctantly agreeing with the Forger's blunt insight. Cobb had told him all about his time in Limbo, both with Mal and then alone when trying to find Saito. He had been fine with his wife, knowing that this wasn't his reality; that he had only to kill himself to wake up in his own home again. But the second time ... it had taken a joint effort from both men, Cobb and Saito reminding the other of what awaited them in the _real _world. And Mal, who had been only too willing to accept Limbo as her reality, had given herself over completely, almost with a fight. He prayed Ariadne would be stronger; that she would resist Limbo's insidiousness and hold out for as long as possible. Just until they could reach her ...

And yet, without her totem ... how would she able to do such a thing?

'Don't worry, darling,' Eames murmured, gripping Arthur's shoulder, anchoring him to the reality that was Limbo. 'We'll find her. You see, this is why you need _me_. I'll stop you from losing your mind down here. Two's company and all that malarkey.'

'I think I'd be saner _without_ you around,' Arthur muttered in reply, eliciting a small smile from his companion.

'See, that's the spirit,' Eames chuckled. 'And I'll be sure to complain about your fastidiousness as often as possible. As long as we keep reminding each other of our own reality, we won't have a problem.'

Arthur noted the pinch of doubt in the Forger's words – even _he _didn't fully believe them – but he clung to them nonetheless. It was a logical assumption. Something he could work with.

Eames seemed to have forgotten his previous weariness as he started to march further up the potholed street. Arthur glanced at the bishop nestled in his palm, before slipping it into his pocket and following suit.

He could feel the two totems – red die and bronze bishop – as they jinked together, digging him in the leg as he walked. It was a gentle, yet firm reminder of everything he _must _hold onto if he was to find her and bring her back.

With him.

Back home.

Together.

**A/N: So I lied again, but in a good way this time! I was able to get this up earlier than tonight (just gone midday over here), so I may even have the next chapter up before the end of the day, too. Look out for it! If not, definitely tomorrow.**

**Hope you liked the chapter. There'll be a good few more focusing on the two boys, never fear. It's a great opportunity to write a bit more about their strange friendship with each other and discover more about their respective backgrounds etc. I'm thoroughly looking forward to it, and I hope you are too! :)  
**


	42. Chapter 42

**42.**

The worst thing about Limbo wasn't its vastness; nor its dreary similarity wherever they went; nor the biting wind that stung their cold faces. It wasn't even the danger of being stuck there for an eternity, waiting to wake up while slowly accepting it as your reality, until you grew old, full of regrets for a life never lived.

No – for Arthur, the worst thing about Limbo was the inordinate amount of time it gave him to dwell on his own thoughts. Things that he wanted to repress, to forget about, niggled his mind with every step he took. The silence that had descended over the two companions did nothing to help his plight.

He couldn't stop thinking about Ariadne, about what she might be up to, right then, while they desperately searched for her; about how he had screwed things up, for both of them, through his series of inexplicable actions over the past week. Even now he couldn't justify certain decisions – at least not with his logical mind. They had been completely _il_logical, something that he wasn't used to dealing with, let alone experiencing himself.

Arthur sighed, trying to force himself into thinking about something else. His legs were starting to hurt again. Yes, pain was a good thing to focus on. It stopped him from getting lost in other, more depressing thoughts.

He stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath, searching around for somewhere to rest. He had noticed that each trek took more out of him; that he was tiring sooner each time. How long had they been down there? It could be minutes – or hours. Days – or months. Time seemed insignificant in this world. He was aware of it, but _un_aware at the same time. _A paradox if ever there was one, _he thought dryly. It was as though ... the days rolled into one, if such a concept even existed in a place like this. A minute quickly turned into an hour, and before he knew it he was beginning to feel old, weary.

Arthur had started to notice a few wisps of grey peppering his companion's dark blonde hair, but both men had graciously avoided pointing it out. Neither wanted to dwell on the implications such an observation would entail.

'Time for another break?' Eames asked, coming to a stop next to Arthur.

Arthur nodded and looked around. There were no benches here, only the same crumbling skyscrapers, looming overhead like giant concrete trees. They were lost – lost in a vast stone forest, with no way of telling which direction they should be heading on. But still they ploughed on, clinging to the hope that they would reach their destination eventually. Wherever it might be.

'Here,' Arthur muttered, erecting a wooden bench for them to rest on with a simple thought.

'Fantastically convenient, that,' Eames chuckled. 'At least down here we won't be mauled by projections if we start changing things. I suppose we should at least be grateful for _that_.'

But Arthur wasn't listening. He was already slouching on the bench, consumed by his own thoughts once more. The feel of the seat reminded him of somewhere familiar, and before he knew it he was thinking of the park again, lost in its verdant beauty, the boundless optimism of such a sunny, cheerful place.

He didn't even notice the grass that began to grow beneath their feet, nor the trees that sprouted from the ground around them.

'Well, this is certainly better than what we had,' Eames muttered as he folded his hands behind his head. 'A nice change of scenery to lift our spirits.' Arthur caught the sidelong look his companion gave him, but said nothing. 'All right, what is it with you and that park, hmm?'

Arthur sighed and leant back against the bench. 'It's just somewhere I like to go when I need to think things through. It calms me.'

'It's not doing a particularly good job of it now,' Eames replied, peering at Arthur's taut face.

Arthur shook his head, and again refrained from answering. If only he could recreate the whole park – the glaring sunshine, the rippling pond with its resident ducks and geese, the sound of children's laughter as they ran about with their parents. He could get quite comfortable in a place like that ...

'Come on, spill,' Eames prompted, cutting into his wandering thoughts. 'What's the significance behind it?'

'What's with the twenty questions?' Arthur shot back, leaning forwards once more, his elbows resting on his knees.

'I told you, we need to remind each other of our own reality, of who we _are_. That means talking about what's _real_. Our memories, our past. Likes, dislikes. You get the gist.' Arthur rolled his eyes, deciding he didn't like the route the conversation was going down. 'Besides, if we're going to be stuck down here for years with each other, I think it's only best that we share a bit about ourselves. A way to pass the time, if nothing else. So ... shoot.'

Arthur groaned, knowing there was no way he was going to be able to avoid the discussion; not now that Eames had been possessed by the idea. He would only hound him with every step until he finally succumbed. _It's like he's performed a damn Inception on himself,_ he thought irritably. _An idea is like a parasite ..._

'Fine,' he sighed. 'This was the last place I saw my family alive, five years ago.'

That was it. His words were blunt, to the point. Emotionless.

Eames raised his eyebrows, his expression betraying his surprise. 'And that makes you happy ... why?'

Arthur shrugged. 'It was the last time I really felt content. We went to the park – the same one we'd gone to hundreds of times when I was a kid – the day before I left to join the military. I was twenty-four. The government had decided to throw big money behind the study into dream-sharing. I enlisted as an assistant researcher after doing two years infantry training. I suppose they liked my major in Psychology. Top of the class in everything, including military training.'

He shrugged and stopped, aware that he was rambling. He had never told anyone about his past – though he suspected that Cobb had dug up the information on him before asking him to be his partner in Extraction. To his relief Dom had never mentioned it, and he had never volunteered to talk about it. It suited him that way.

'I'm not surprised you were so good,' Eames said with a nod. 'I bet you were the type of kid who locked himself in his room every day to study instead of going out to play football with your mates.'

Arthur glanced at him, annoyed at the smirk playing on the Forger's lips. But his irritation was short-lived, quickly replaced by a sense of resignation.

'Yes, I was. I was serious about my studies. I wanted to excel at everything. My parents were happy to let me go at my own pace, never pushing me. But they were a bit harder with my brother. He was too lazy for his own good.'

A small smile crept onto his face at the image of his family, huddled on a picnic blanket in the middle of their park. Happily munching on cheese-and-ham sandwiches, blissfully unaware of the fateful incident that would change their lives forever. And his.

'So, what happened?' Eames asked, his voice coaxing Arthur back to the hard bench, the fake trees that surrounded them.

'They died a week later. A car crash. Some drunken fool was trying to overtake on the other side of the road and ploughed into them. I'd been in my new job all of a week when I got the news.'

Arthur felt Eames' hand on his shoulder, patting it once, twice, before taking it away again. 'I'm sorry to hear it,' the Forger muttered. 'That's got to be tough to deal with.'

'It was,' Arthur admitted through gritted teeth. 'I went back for their funeral, then threw myself into my work. I stayed with the military for another year until I ran into Cobb during one of their conventions on shared-dreaming. We got talking about the possibilities it could entail, and ... well, the rest is pretty obvious. I jumped at the chance to get out of the USA, as far away from home as I could. I meant to visit their graves after we failed Saito's Extraction, but Cobb accepted the Inception job and I didn't get the opportunity.'

A tense silence enveloped the two men, neither one quite knowing what to say next. Arthur kept his eyes trained ahead, staring at the side the building in front of them. He sensed that Eames wanted to say something more, but was taking the time to choose his words. This show of tact from the Forger surprised Arthur, considering the intense enjoyment he seemed to gain from ribbing the Point Man at any given opportunity. And yet ... he quickly accepted it, realising just how multifaceted his companion was, switching his personalities to suit the situation. Almost the same way he altered his appearance when necessary and at will. Arthur supposed it shouldn't have come as a revelation, after all.

'So that's why you find it so hard to open up to someone. To let someone in and get close to them. You don't want to lose anyone else you care about.'

It was statement, not a question; one Arthur refused to acknowledge. Eames' sharp perceptions were starting to worry him. What else did he know?

'You know, you shouldn't always bottle your emotions up,' Eames continued, apparently oblivious to Arthur's growing discomfort. 'It's not healthy.'

'What are you, an agony aunt all of a sudden?' Arthur muttered.

Eames chuckled. 'I'm just saying. It's not pretty when someone suddenly explodes. All the pent-up anger, frustration – it's dangerous. As you've already demonstrated.'

'Thanks for reminding me.' Arthur sighed. 'Besides, it helps me do my job properly. I have to make decisions based on logic, not emotion.'

'Very true,' the Forger admitted. 'But that shouldn't extend to all areas of your life.'

'My job _is _my life.'

Eames cocked his eyebrow at the Point Man. 'Even now?'

Arthur snapped his head around to look at him. He didn't appreciate the knowing look in the Forger's eye, nor the small smile that tugged at his lips.

'Yes. Why wouldn't it be?' he said stiffly.

'So you have _nothing_ else to think about? No other ... _distractions _to keep you away from work for a bit?'

Arthur frowned. Once again the conversation had taken an unexpected turn; one that he was certain he wasn't going to like.

'Such as?'

_Stupid,_ he scolded himself. As if Eames needed an opening to elaborate on his cryptic questioning. But Arthur found he was curious in spite of his uncertainty.

'Come now, darling. We've already had this discussion once before, on a bench not too dissimilar to this one. Don't tell me you've forgotten already?' Arthur pursed his lips together and said nothing. 'Besides, you can't fool me. I _know_. I _saw_.'

'Saw _what_?' Arthur asked before he could stop himself.

'Second layer of the Inception. Hotel lobby, on a nice little sofa. You two looked pretty cosy together, if you don't mind my saying.'

Arthur knew without looking that the Forger had a ridiculous grin on his face. Again he switched in the blink of an eye, from a solemn, comforting friend to a beaming, teasing kind of older brother. His _real _brother had been no different, constantly making fun of Arthur's meticulousness, his sharp attention to detail. The memory brought a lump to his throat, and he swallowed in a desperate bid to rid himself of it.

'So, what ... you were _spying _on us instead of doing your job down there?'

'Oh, no, nothing like _that_. I just have good timing is all. I _happened _to be rounding the corner as the lovely Ms Stephenson – you remember the blonde in the dress? – and spotted you there. I must say, you make rather an adorable couple. A bit too prim-and-proper in those suits, but adorable nonetheless.'

'Yeah, well, that's too bad. Because it's not me she needs, or wants.'

Arthur blinked. Where had _that _come from? He silently cursed Eames and his insistent interrogation and stood up, walking away from the bench just as he had done before. This time the Forger stayed seated, much to Arthur's relief.

'What gives you that idea?' Eames asked.

Arthur heaved a sigh. The last thing he wanted to do right then was discuss his _feelings _with his companion, but the proverbial can of worms had already been opened. It was too late to put the lid back on now.

'You saw the projection she dreamed up of me. I was _right there_ and she still needed him. He did what I couldn't – he protected her. Because of _me _Ariadne's lost in Limbo, and we're on this fucking impossible search to find her, with no guarantee that we ever will.'

Arthur heard Eames get up, pushing himself off the bench and walking to stand in front of the other man. He waited for the Point Man to look him in the eye before he spoke.

'Arthur, he's a bloody robot. He's emotionless, and he's only there for one thing. You think _that's_ what she wants?' He shook his head when Arthur simply shrugged his shoulders. 'God, you really don't know much about women, my friend. You might not be the most emotionally in-tune person I've ever met, but you're a damn sight better than _he _was. He never uttered a single word, in all the dreams I shared with her.'

'But he can keep her _safe_, something I promised to do but didn't deliver on.'

'That's because you started to let your emotions inform your decisions. You're usually so detached, thinking things through with a logical mind. But not shooting Denley straight away, asking Ariadne to come into the dream with us, breaking your taboo to go and see her before the month was up – these were _emotional_ choices. Anger, anxiety – whatever they were. You're not used to doing it, so you messed up. But hey, we all make mistakes. We're only human, after all.'

'_Most_ people's mistakes don't get someone trapped in unconstructed dream-space,' Arthur shot back.

Eames shook his head again and sighed. 'No, that's true. Which is why you've got to learn from them, and fast. Be rational when you need to be, just not all the time. Nobody wants to kiss a wet fish.' Arthur rolled his eyes as Eames grinned at him. 'Look,' he continued, once again seeming to consider his words carefully before voicing them. 'He's the man she _needs _you to be. Cold, efficient - able to shoot dead anyone who tries to harm her. But that's not who she _wants_ you to be. Trust me. I'm a Forger, darling. It's my _job_ to know people, to be perceptive. You work with details, I work with _feelings_, the nuances in a person's character. I can manipulate and understand them just like you do your research and facts. Sometimes, you need someone like me to point these things out. You're too buried in your paperwork and _details _to even stop and think about the possibilities before you. What is it they say? Ah yes - sometimes you can't see what's right in front of you.'_  
_

He flashed a brief smile at Arthur and patted him on the shoulder for the second time. Arthur said nothing, only stood there as Eames wandered back over to the bench.

'For what it's worth,' the Forger said over his shoulder, 'I don't think it matters _what _her projection was like. Her subconscious could have conjured anyone as a protector. Fact is, it chose _you_. I'd say that's got to mean _something_.'

Arthur turned, opening his mouth to reply. But the words died on his lips when he heard footsteps crunching on the grass to his right. He twisted his head to look at the owner, his heart suddenly racing in his chest when he saw who it was.

'Excuse me, gentlemen,' the newcomer said. 'Do you think you could help me? I'm afraid I'm lost.'

**A/N: Whew! First off, my apologies. There was a LOT of dialogue in this chapter, but then I suppose it's the only way for them to actually discuss something! So never mind. I hope it wasn't too much.**

**I'm not entirely sure on this one myself. Again, I pictured it coming out slightly differently (e.g. the second half of the conversation I was going to save for a later chapter, but it seemed to flow on quite nicely here), so I hope you guys like it. Poor Arthur's either getting interrogated by Eames, or ribbed by him - there's not much in-between! But it's all good, it's how they roll, I say. :P**

**Next chapter likely won't be up until Tuesday evening now as I'm out all day tomorrow at a theme park - yay! But to make up for it I'll probably be uploading the next two at the same time, so bear with me till then. :)**

**EDIT: Sorry to all who read this before I managed to add in a little bit - near the end, when Eames is trying to persuade Arthur to look at things a little differently. I'll put another note at the beginning of the next chapter as well for those who don't see this.  
**


	43. Chapter 43

**EDIT: Sorry, forgot to say - for those 10-20 people who read the last chapter before I edited it, do check out the addition to Eames' little speech to Arthur right at the end of the chapter. If you should so wish, that is. :)**

**43.**

She stood there.

Staring.

Waiting.

Waiting for an answer to her question.

She didn't know what to do.

She felt ... lost. Yes, that was the word – lost.

She had been walking for so long. Her feet hurt. She was tired.

She noticed she could see the veins in her hands a little more clearly now. It upset her.

She looked around at the buildings towering above her, dismayed by their ugliness. There was so much more could be done with them.

If only she knew how.

Again she voiced the same question: 'What do I do?'

What _could _she do? She didn't know where she was. Who she was.

All she knew ... was that she _had _to do something about those god-awful buildings ...

But where to start?

She needed somewhere to rest. To stay. To _live_. But she wouldn't be caught dead in one of those skyscrapers.

She spotted a gap in the buildings, about twenty metres up the road. She walked over to the empty space, staring down at the flat, grey concrete.

She wished she could build a house. Something pretty. A little cottage, perhaps.

Another image flashed across her mind – like ... a postcard. A small picture – of a quaint cabin.

She tried to concentrate on it, visualising every brick and window pane. She could see it so clearly; it was almost as though it were standing right before her eyes.

She jumped backwards as the ground began to tremble beneath her feet. She gasped as small red bricks began to erupt from the earth in front of her. They settled on top of each other, rapidly gaining height as lush green grass slowly grew around them. She watched dumb-founded as – right before her eyes – the very same cottage she had been thinking about built itself up in front of her.

When the rumbling stopped, she simply stood and stared at the wonderful creation. Words failed her.

Had she done that?

But how? How was that even possible?

She had only _thought _about the building, and here it was.

She edged closer to it, taking in every brick and window pane; every strand of straw in the thatched roof. She marvelled at its beauty, feeling an odd sense of pride in such an achievement. It was – perfect.

Yes, absolutely perfect.

She pushed the red wooden door open and stepped inside. Her footsteps echoed on the wood panelling beneath her feet. Everything was just how she had pictured it, down to the tiny cuckoo clock on the wall, and the floral couch nestled in the corner complete with matching armchair.

She hurried over to the sofa and slumped down, sinking into the supple cushions. She could feel her eyes drooping already, her weariness threatening to overwhelm her.

Her heart raced as she thought of the possibilities now available to her. She could do so much; could convert the dreary landscape around her into something ... beautiful.

Building such wonderful things – it was something she could focus on.

It felt right.

It felt _good_.

It was ... _pure creation_.

**A/N: Hello again! So I managed to get this short chapter up tonight, contrary to what I previously thought.**

**First off, sorry to disappoint all those who thought it was Ariadne at the end of the last chapter! No, that would be too obvious now, and you should all know me well enough to realise that I wouldn't give it to you that easily. ;) But hey, some small happiness for her here, no? She's rediscovering her love of architecture, of _creating_ wonderful new buildings. That's got to count for something! For her, at least.**

**I shall probably have the next chapter up tomorrow night, as long as I can sort out my little dilemma concerning it! Far be it from me to give things away, so I shall leave it there for now. I shall mull over it whilst at work and hopefully decide on it in time to write and upload chapter 44 later the same day. For now, adieu wonderful readers, and goodnight. :)  
**


	44. Chapter 44

**44.**

Arthur stared at the man before him, astounded at the changes in his appearance. His hair was silver-white; the skin on his face sagged, having seemingly lost its fight against gravity long ago; his eyes were sunken deep into his sockets; his veins stood out a brilliant blue on his hands, bulging against the paper-thin skin of his arms.

He doubted he would have recognised him had it not been for those dark, dark eyes, which once stood out in stark contrast to his flaxen hair. The eyes that used to burned with a malice and selfish ambition that shocked even him, the once-unflappable Point Man; that now exuded nothing but confusion, a desperation that was enough to melt even the coldest of hearts.

Except Arthur's.

He glared at the elderly man, his heart pounding furiously in his chest, his hands clenched into tight fists by his side. Eames approached him, stopping next to Arthur as he peered at the man's wrinkled face.

'It _can't _be,' the Forger muttered. 'Of all the goddamn rotten luck.'

'I'm sorry, do I know you?' the man asked, a deep frown creasing his face further.

'No, it seems not,' Eames replied, with more than a hint of puzzled amusement in his voice.

Arthur shot his companion a dark look, wondering how he could possibly be enjoying such a scene; when this man – this vile excuse of a human being – was the reason for their current dire predicament. It was _his _fault they were stuck in the most terrifying realm of all, wandering the vast expanse of unconstructed dream-space on a futile manhunt; _his _fault they were gradually aging, turning into old men right before their own eyes; _his _fault Ariadne –

'Can you help me, though? I have no idea where I am, and would appreciate some – '

He never got to finish his sentence. Arthur had taken two quick steps forwards, his right hand curled into a ball, and clouted the man square on the nose. The resounding crunch seemed to echo around the desolate area. He staggered backwards, then collapsed to the floor, clutching his broken nose as the blood seeped through his skeletal fingers.

'Arthur! What the _hell _do you think you're doing?' Eames cried, gripping the Point Man's wrist before he could take another swing.

'I'm working on not bottling up my emotions,' Arthur muttered dryly. 'Just like you told me.'

'I didn't mean you should batter an old man! Jesus. Just ... calm down.'

Arthur whipped his head around to glower at the Forger. '_Calm down?_ Don't you see who that is?' he growled, wrenching his arm free. 'It's fucking _Denley_. I'd know those hateful eyes anywhere.'

'Yes, I _know_. But look at him, for Christ's sake – he's an old biddy now. He doesn't even know who _we _are, let alone himself. He can't hurt us.'

'I don't give a shit,' Arthur spat. 'You expect me to have a friendly chat with him in Limbo just because he's turned into a pensioner and lost his memory?'

'No,' Eames began evenly, 'I expect you to be the bigger man and walk away. Remember – rational when you need to be. There's no _reason _to punish him further. He's going to be stuck here for a _very_ long time, completely alone.' He glanced at the now-aged Denley and shrugged. 'Besides, we've got more important things to be getting on with, remember?'

Arthur stood there, looking down at his antagonist, his burning gaze locked with Denley's bewildered – and abnormally terrified – one. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. He couldn't help but find the situation rather bizarre. It was as though their roles had been reversed – he, the usually calm, collected Point Man being restrained by the oft-emotional Forger. An image pierced his clouded mind, almost like déjà vu – a small room in a hotel – a balding receptionist, recoiling from his livid glare – a hand shooting out to stop him from pummelling the man a second time. If only Cobb could see them now ...

'W-what the hell is your problem?' Denley spluttered through the blood trickling over his withered lips.

'You are,' Arthur muttered. 'I've waited for _such _a long time to do that. Did you know that? It wasn't quite as satisfying as I'd hoped it would be, though.' He took two slow steps, so that he was standing directly over the cowering man. 'You're just not worth it.'

He had a quick thought that this was usually the part in films when the leading man spat on the defeated rival, just to add insult to injury – but, of course, he was far too dignified for that. He simply stepped over the crumpled body of Paul Denley and strode away; from the whimpering old man, the park bench nestled among the trees and lush grass – from everything, knowing he would never have to lay eyes on the odious man ever again. The idea lifted his spirits out of the hole they had been miring in.

Arthur completely missed his companion as he, too, stepped over the old man and _accidentally _caught his emaciated face with the toe of his own boot. He was oblivious, too, to the Forger's contemptuous snort, and the smile on his face as he hurried to catch up to the Point Man.

His previous weariness was all but forgotten, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose. He had only one thing on his mind now: how to find their Architect before the same thing happened to her.

Before she was stripped of her sense of self completely.

Before she became an old woman, shrunken, confused, a shade of her former character.

Before she was lost to the sinister clutches of Limbo ... forever.

**A/N: A little shorter, once again, than the chapters that usually involve Arthur. Though this is also deliberate, despite the fact that I did want to expand on it somewhat. But - I shall leave you to your own opinions on that. :) Kudos for those who guessed it was Denley! I suppose there weren't many options to choose from, but still - had you all wondering, no? Hehe.**

**A brief warning/celebration before I contemplate starting the next chapter now - today I was offered a full place on my PGCE (teacher training) course to study Secondary English (11-16 year olds!) Scary, hard times ahead for me, and MOUNTAINS of work for the next 8 months. Now, the workload shouldn't get tough for a week or two (hopefully), by which time I aim to have the story done and dusted. But, just in case it starts straight away, I will forewarn you all here that my updates may not be as fast as you're all used to. However, as the story is nearing an end, it shouldn't affect it too much. Again, aim to be done in the next week or so, latest. Now excuse me whilst I go hyperventilate. :P  
**


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N: So I decided to treat myself (and hopefully you!) to another chapter before I go to bed. Enjoy!**

**45.**

Cobb scrambled into a sitting position, his eyes frantically scanning his surroundings. _Black. Windows. Leather seats._

_Bodies ..._

He stared at the sleepers around him, his heart giving a sudden lurch when he thought about where they were _right_ then. Who could tell when they would wake up? _If _they would wake up?

_Don't think like that, _he reprimanded himself. _Of course they'll get out. Arthur won't accept failure again ..._

He snapped his head to the right at the sound of someone groaning. Browning was stirring in his seat, his eyelids fluttering open as he gazed around him. He spotted the Extractor's pointed glare and recoiled, pressing himself into the limousine door, his hand scrabbling at the handle.

'Don't even _think _about it,' Cobb hissed, whipping his gun up level with Browning's face. 'You're not going anywhere. Not until we've had a little talk.'

'Who the hell _are_ you guys, anyway?' Browning muttered, his wide eyes taking in the lifeless bodies sprawled on the seats around him.

'I guess Denley didn't tell you about _that _side of our work. Dreams are dangerous, Mr. Browning. Far more so than you can possibly imagine. I suggest you bear that in mind the next time you think about using us to do your dirty work.'

'Now hang on a minute,' Browning growled, apparently regaining some of his lost confidence. '_You _were the ones who performed that – that – Inception on Robert in the first place. And you have the _nerve _to sit here and act all goddamn high-and-mighty with _me_?'

Cobb cocked an eyebrow at him, the point of his pistol still aimed squarely between Browning's eyes. 'The shady businessman playing the wronged, hard-done-by innocent? That's classic, that is.'

'You listen here, son – '

'No, _you_ listen, Mr. Browning,' Cobb interjected, leaning closer to the elder man. 'Before I even _think _of letting you go, I want some assurances that you won't pursue any one of my team, nor me. If I even catch wind of another plot against us ... well, I don't think I need to elaborate. You saw what we did to Denley down there. And if you _ever _threaten us again, I will personally guarantee you the same fate. And trust me when I say, _that_ fate will be worse than death.'

Browning opened his mouth to reply, but never got the opportunity. He was thrown backwards in his seat as the limousine careened around a corner. Cobb felt the gun jolt from his grasp as he was flung sideways, toppling onto the slumbering Arthur.

'Yusuf, what the _hell _are you doing up there?' he shouted through the divider as he pushed himself back into his seat.

He saw the Chemist glance over his shoulder as Saito climbed through to the next section, one in front of Cobb's. 'Sorry!' Yusuf called back. 'We've got some trouble up here. Look behind.'

Cobb frowned and peered through the back window. His eyes widened when he saw what the Chemist had been talking about.

Two black Sedans were gaining on the limousine, and fast. The front windows were wound down as he watched, and what were the unmistakable barrels of two M4A1 rifles jutted out.

_Shit, that's all we need._

He snapped his head back down to look for his gun ... and felt his mouth turn dry when he realised where it had fallen.

Browning snatched the pistol up from the floor beside his foot and raised it level with Cobb's forehead. His eyes lit up at the troubled look on the Extractor's face, his lips contorting into a spiteful smirk.

'Now, Mr. Cobb,' he said, his gruff voice oozing confidence once more. 'Let's see how you fare when the shoe's on the other foot.'


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N: Good evening! Another one from me here. I'm desperately trying to finish this story before being snowed under with uni work for the third time in 5 years. Even the 'informal chat' with my tutor today was overwhelming! Still, will all be worth it in the end. :)**

**For those who don't know, and are vaguely interested - a PGCE (or Post Graduate Certificate in Education) is a teacher training course in the UK, which in my case means that once I finish (and hopefully pass!) the training course in roughly 8 months' time, I will be a newly-qualified teacher and will be able to teach secondary (high) school English anywhere in the country! And perhaps world, come to think of it. Now you see why I'm so pedantic about my writing and any errors etc. Can't very well teach the subject to students when I can't even write it properly myself. :P**

**Anyhoo, enough from me! Enjoy the next chapter.  
**

**46.**

The two men walked in silence for a while, each one lost in their own swirling thoughts. Arthur had tried to clear his mind – to focus _only _on their destination and finding Ariadne – but it was impossible. There were too many things to contemplate, not least of all the weariness that seemed to penetrate his very bones. He could feel his age catching up to him, slowing him down, creasing his once-smooth features and peppering his dark hair with slivers of grey. He wondered – and not for the first time – just how long they had been down there; in Limbo-time _and _real-time. Five minutes in reality could constitute years in this dimension. It was something he tried – and failed – not to dwell on.

He wondered how Cobb and the others were faring up top; whether they had managed to get to a safe place and deal with Browning once they both woke up. _Cobb's resilient, resourceful, _he reasoned. _He'll know what to do._ He had complete faith in his partner – something he had never admitted before, even to himself. Ariadne had been right. He _did _find it hard to trust others, at least implicitly. There was always a shade of doubt tingeing his belief in them, a fear of getting too close, of being disappointed. It was, he knew, largely Denley's fault. Since the Cavendish debacle, he had found it difficult to look at others in the same light. And then the disaster that was his whole family's death ... the Point Man had certainly not had an easy last five years, to say the least.

'I still can't believe that,' Eames said suddenly, his voice cutting into Arthur's thoughts like a knife. 'I mean, of all the bloody people to run into down here and it's _him_.'

Arthur said nothing. He wanted to forget about _that _particular chance encounter; to forget about Paul Denley once and for all. But it appeared his companion had other ideas.

'And the way he looked!' the Forger continued, seemingly insensible of his friend's lack of enthusiasm for the subject. 'I thought _we'd _aged a lot, but my God. Does make you wonder.'

'About what?' Arthur asked, the words out of his mouth before he had even realised his intention to voice them.

'Well, for instance – about how different things can affect you down here. It's like we were saying before – not having anyone else around, and no totem, either ... maybe you lose your sense of self more quickly. Maybe you perceive time in a different way, age more rapidly. I don't know.'

Arthur considered his words with some trepidation. His hand dipped into his pocket, his fingers curling around the small plastic cube and the cool metal of the chess piece. If Denley had lost his memory and aged so fast – and Ariadne had dropped into Limbo _before _him ...

'She'll be fine,' Eames murmured close by, as though reading the Point Man's thoughts. 'And even _if_ she's turned out like him, we'll get her back.'

Arthur nodded and swallowed past the lump that had abruptly formed in his throat. He still gripped the two totems together as they walked, relishing the feeling of the bishop's tip as it dug into his palm. _A gentle, yet firm reminder of everything I must hold on to ..._

But ... what if she _was_ like Denley now? It wasn't an impossibility, by any means. He _had_ to come up with a plan – to help her remember, to give her back her identity.

To save her life.

'_There's no-one I feel safer with, Arthur. I trust you with my life.'_

He held it in his palms, and perhaps ... in his very heart. To lose her now, in such a brutal way – it didn't even bear thinking about. Not after all they had been through ...

Arthur was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice the change in scenery – the quaint little cottage to his left, which shone like a beacon among the dreary uniformity of the towering skyscrapers. The oddly familiar building to the right that – had they been alert enough to look inside – would have resembled a particular warehouse situated in a well-known European capital.

No, both men were oblivious to these sights. Arthur had his eyes trained on the ground in front of him, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on the contents of his right trouser pocket. Eames, on the other hand, was flipping what seemed to be a red poker chip on his thumb – over and over, catching it in his palm only to repeat the process. His eyes were fixated on his own totem, precluding all else around him.

'I've just realised,' the Forger began, his eyes flicking up and down, following the flight of the chip. 'I don't even know the significance behind your totems – none of you. And you sure as hell don't know mine, either.'

'I've never thought to ask.' Arthur replied, still staring at the road beneath his feet. 'It's ... too personal. Private.'

'So you're the type of person who would wait to be told, rather than ask?'

The Point Man nodded. 'If someone wants to volunteer the information, that's fine. But I won't pry.'

'Ha!' Eames laughed. 'This from the guy who knows when and where I went to hospital to have my tonsils out over twenty years ago.'

'That's part of my job,' Arthur replied coolly. 'I don't _need _to know why you chose a poker chip as your totem. Though I'm sure I could hazard a guess.'

The Forger lifted an eyebrow and smirked. 'Oh? I'd like to see you try.'

Arthur snorted, the nasally sound at odds with his _almost_-pristine appearance. 'We all know you have a gambling habit, Eames. That one I _didn't _have to research. It's common knowledge.'

'Ah, my dear, naive Arthur,' Eames sighed. 'I'm much more complex than you think.'

This time Arthur _did _raise his head, shooting a half-amused, half-mock-disbelieving look at his companion. He was about to offer a sardonic reply when a flash of colour caught his eye. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes darting about his surroundings.

'You see, unlike _you_, I am a man of many faces,' the Forger continued, unaware that Arthur had stopped walking. 'A modern Lon Chaney, if you will.'

'Shut up,' Arthur hissed.

Eames turned to find the Point Man rooted to the spot, gazing up at the buildings around them. 'Well now, there's no need to be _rude _about it. A simple dubious look would have been enough to silence me.'

'Eames, just _shut_ the hell up.'

The Forger frowned, apparently realising that something was not right. He followed his companion's example and swept his eyes over the skyscrapers either side of him.

Except they weren't skyscrapers at all, but rows upon rows of cafés, bistros, small shops and cottages.

'Where the bloody hell _are _we?' he muttered.

Arthur hesitated, taking a few steps further forwards. He narrowed his eyes at the buildings, seeming to scrutinise every facet before giving a quick nod.

'I think ... we're in Paris.'

**A/N: P.S.: For those desperate for some more A/A - hold on just a little while longer! It's coming, I promise. But - just like the film - things have to go very wrong before they can go very right, no? Makes the (hopeful) resolution all the sweeter. Though you shall just have to wait and see if I deliver on that promise entirely. ;) Goodnight for now - I shall try to get the next chapter up tomorrow night, but with a whole day at uni and more work to do, I cannot guarantee it. Still, some time in the next few days, I'm sure.**


	47. Chapter 47

**A/N: Whew! What a day. Thank you all for the kind words of encouragement/congratulations. :) As a treat, here is the next chapter! Enjoy.**

**47.**

Things happened so quickly Cobb hardly had time to process what was going on.

Browning leant closer to him, the barrel of his pistol mere inches from Cobb's face as he continued to mutter various threats and warnings.

Saito clambered over to the divider, pointing his own gun at Browning and shouting at him to put his firearm down.

The rear windscreen shattered as bullets were sprayed into the limousine. All three men ducked, trying to steady themselves as Yusuf swerved the vehicle in a futile attempt to avoid the fire.

_Shit, one of them could get hit,_ Cobb thought, raking his eyes over the sleeping figures of his teammates.

'Drop your weapon, Mr. Browning!' Saito urged, struggling to keep his own gun level with the other man's head.

Browning glanced up at him, apparently torn between persisting in his intimidation of Cobb and preserving his own life. He hesitated for an agonising few seconds, before finally dropping the pistol to the floor. Cobb immediately snatched it up and imitated Saito's actions.

'Tell them to stop!' he yelled, covering his head with one arm as more bullets crashed into the limousine's bodywork. 'Or so help me, I'll shoot!'

'Go ahead!' Browning growled. 'You wouldn't dare.'

'Don't push me, Mr. Browning. You won't like what you find.'

Browning jumped as a bullet exploded through the glass divider, narrowly missing Saito's left shoulder.

'Do it!' Cobb shouted.

He pressed the gun to Browning's forehead as another shot was blasted into the limousine's boot. The businessman glared up at him, his fists clenched, before whipping his phone out of his jacket pocket.

'Call the men off,' he muttered. 'I know what I said! Just do it, you incompetent fool. Before you end up shooting me instead.'

The gunfire ceased. Saito heaved a relieved sigh as Cobb peered over the seat to look through the glassless rear window. The two black Sedans squealed to a halt; Cobb watched as a group of suited men jumped out, each one staring after the rapidly-disappearing limousine. He relaxed back into his seat, both men keeping their pistols trained on Browning as Yusuf wound the vehicle through various side-streets.

They carried on driving for another thirty minutes before the Chemist decided to stop. Cobb raised his phone for a second and clicked a button, then stepped out of the car, gesturing for Browning to do the same.

'Where are we?' Saito asked as the men gathered in a small group.

'No idea,' Yusuf shrugged. 'I just kept going until I was sure they couldn't follow.'

Cobb kept his eyes on their captive, preparing himself for any more surprises. _Who knew he could be so wily._ He kept his gun at his side, pointing it at the man's stomach.

'So, what're you going to do?' Browning grumbled. 'Shoot me?'

Cobb shook his head as Saito and Yusuf turned their attention to the businessman. 'No, Mr. Browning. Like Arthur said – we're not murderers. Thieves, blackmailers, yes. But not cold-blooded killers.'

Browning let out a harsh laugh, his eyes narrowed as he looked between the teammates. 'Well, if shooting someone in the head doesn't count as murder, then I don't know what does.'

'That was different,' Cobb replied coolly. 'Killing someone in a dream isn't the same as real-life. I would have thought _that_ much would be easy to grasp, even for you.'

'Turning him into a vegetable isn't much different,' Browning spat. 'Shooting him here would be much kinder, I'm sure.'

'Be that as it may, we're not in the business of murdering people.'

'So ... what then? What do you want from me?'

'Just what I said – for you to leave us alone. Don't _ever _try to find us again. I meant what I said about sharing the same fate. And just in case _that _wasn't enough incentive, I have another for you – if there's even a whisper that you're trying to pursue us again, I'll send this' – he brandished his phone at the man – 'to every newspaper and news station in California.'

Browning stared at the phone, his lips pursed into a thin white line. Cobb noted the bemused expressions on his companion's faces, too, but said nothing.

'And just what is _that_, exactly?' Browning asked.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Cobb's lips. He pocketed the phone again and watched his hostage, allowing him to consider the multiple possibilities first.

'I _may _have taken a photo of you next to an unconscious Denley,' he said casually. 'You know, he _almost _looks dead in there. Or drugged, what with the needle in his wrist and all. I'll bet _that_ would enhance your outstanding reputation in the world of business tenfold.'

Browning glared at him, his breathing suddenly very laboured. Cobb wondered if he might try to take a swing at him; he raised his gun a little higher, so that his adversary could see it more clearly.

'You son of a bitch,' Browning hissed. 'And I thought you couldn't stoop any lower.'

Cobb's smirk broadened. 'I'm just employing the same tactics you might use yourself, so let's not start on the hypocrisy.'

He heard Yusuf snort, and felt rather than saw Saito's satisfied smile.

'So that's it?' Browning muttered. 'You threaten me and expect me to walk off like nothing happened?'

'Of course. What else would you like me to do – send you a card at Christmas?'

He surprised even himself with his nonchalance in such a tense situation, but he couldn't help it – winding the man up further was just _far _too enjoyable. Especially after everything he had put them through; everything he was responsible for. _Eames would be so proud ..._

'Oh, and one more thing,' Cobb said as Yusuf and Saito headed back to the limousine. 'If my friends don't wake up any time soon ... God help you.'

With that he jumped back into the vehicle and slammed the door, leaving the businessman to glower after them as Yusuf stamped on the accelerator. He glanced down at his three sleeping teammates, his brow knitted with anxiety.

_Come on, guys. You can do it._

**A/N: Right, now I know how much you must all hate my cliffhangers by now! But - there are several reasons for them, a few of which I shall discuss here. 1) The story is nearing the end, and the tension must be built up to a (hopefully) climactic and satisfying finale. Would be boring otherwise! 2) All the good thriller writers do it! Though I admit this isn't exactly part of that genre, but it's similar in ways. Go read Dan Brown and tell me I have too many of them here! He really DOES get annoying. 3) It keeps you guessing and coming back for more, no? ;P 4) I really don't plan on leaving them all like this - it's just how it comes out when I write. And honestly, I can't see how to end them any differently without compromising the chapters themselves. 5) A more general point - I'm not sure if it's obvious (and if it's not, then I rather fail at it!) but I'm attempting a pseudo-imitation of 'Inception' itself - by which I mean I'm flitting between characters/different 'layers' (although only the real world and Limbo now) in order to show what's going on in different areas. Again, if no-one picked up on this (admittedly not very blatant) attempt, then ... I suck, sadly.**

**I have no idea why I feel the need to explain my reasonings all the time, but there we are! A bad habit, I suppose.**** So! I do apologise for those who are tiring of them, but there shouldn't be too many more on the way (maybe one or two, if you're lucky :P). And again, with the lack of A/A - poor Cobb and the others deserve their 'screen' time, no? Hehe. Again, A/A is on the way, and hopefully it'll be worth the (perhaps, maybe, sort of long) wait. I prefer to build things slowly, as I'm sure you've more than gathered by now, rather than rush it. Just wouldn't seem right otherwise.**

**Toodles from me for now - another packed day at uni tomorrow, but I may just be able to sneak another chapter in between my work. :)  
**


	48. Chapter 48

**48.**

Arthur walked slowly through the winding streets, inspecting every new building they came across for ... well, he wasn't entirely sure what. The sheer scale and depth of detail astounded him; even the sky above was a brilliant blue, the sun pounding them with its blistering rays. If he hadn't felt the sharp dig of her totem in his pocket, he could have almost believed it was real ...

He wiped his sleeve across his brow and undid the top button of his shirt. He regretted, once again, his choice of attire as he began to loosen the knot of his tie.

'Ah, and I don't even have my camera on me,' Eames quipped as he watched Arthur's steady decline in immaculacy. 'I'm sure Cobb would have a fit if he could see you now – fluffy hair, tie all skew-whiff – oh, and now rolled-up sleeves! Well I never.'

Arthur rolled his eyes, not bothering to dignify the Forger's mockery with an answer. He continued to examine their surroundings as they trudged on, their pace noticeably quicker than it had been. He was looking for a sign – but for what? Perhaps an actual, _physical _sign that would point them in the right direction? The notion was laughable – he knew she wouldn't be so obvious about it. _Particularly if she doesn't even remember, _he thought bitterly. He shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts and began to walk even faster, leaving his companion lagging in his wake.

'Oi!' Eames cried, jogging to keep up. 'What's the rush?' Arthur spared him a brief glance, his expression saying more than words ever could. 'All right, that was a dumb question. Do you even know where you're going?'

'Not really,' Arthur admitted. 'But there must be _something _around here that will lead us to her.'

The answer hit him like a gust of wind, stealing his breath and stopping him dead in his tracks. He screwed up his face, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening as he stared at the ground in front of him.

'Would you please _stop _doing that?' Eames sighed, doubling-back to stand next to the Point Man. 'Or at least _tell _me you're going to do it.' Arthur didn't reply; he didn't even look up at the Forger, so consumed was he by the sudden idea in his mind. 'What is it? What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' Arthur muttered absent-mindedly, hardly registering the question. 'I just ... I think I know where she is.'

He raised his head and began to scan the horizon, but all he could see were the tops of the houses and shops that surrounded them. He had to go higher – somewhere he could see for miles around. But where?

'So, are you going to tell me or just leave me to guess? What is this, Family Fortunes?'

Arthur shot him an annoyed – and slightly bemused – look, before striding off down the street once more, his dress shoes clacking on the cobblestones beneath his feet. Eames hurried to keep up yet again. Arthur heard his frustrated sigh as he fell into step beside him.

'You know, your vow of silence is really starting to tick me off,' Eames grumbled. 'I hope you're not being this mysterious just for _my _sake.'

'I need to find somewhere higher above ground,' Arthur said quickly. 'To work out where we are in her Paris.'

'Why don't you just look at some street names?'

Arthur paused, considering the idea, before shaking his head. 'It's not likely that she's got everything perfect, despite how good an Architect she is. Her ... memory won't be as it was after all these 'years' down here. It'll be better if I can _see _where to go rather than rely on signs and place names.'

Eames nodded, accepting Arthur's logical explanation – one that was infused with emotion, but logical nonetheless. He was sure the Forger had picked up on the pause, and was grateful he chose not to point it out.

They walked for another ten minutes or so in complete silence, each one on the lookout for higher ground. It was Eames who stopped first.

'How about up there?' he said, gesturing above the chimney of the nearest building.

Arthur followed his finger, his eyes landing on the most obvious choice of all: the Eiffel Tower. _How the hell did I miss _that_?_

'It'll do,' he muttered, ignoring the smug look on his companion's creased face.

They didn't stop until they reached the famous landmark. Arthur had a vague thought regarding the lack of projections down here, too, and wondered whether the sedative was effective even in Limbo. But the idea quickly vanished as soon as they jumped into the lift and hit the button to take them up.

Their ascent was ridiculously slow. _Probably to allow tourists to enjoy the view,_ he thought, sighing impatiently and tapping his foot on the metal floor. He noticed that Eames had begun to drum his fingers on the handrail, too.

Arthur was out of the door before it even had time to open fully. He marched along the outside of the large platform, his eyes scanning the stunning landscape that stretched out before them. It seemed to go on for miles, though he could still see the dreary, crumbling skyscrapers far out in the distance.

'I wonder how long it took her to do,' Eames mused as he wandered past the Point Man.

Arthur had been contemplating the very same thing, but quickly refocused his attention. He swept his gaze over the vista on this side of the platform again, just to be sure, before moving onto the west side. His inspection was brief, as was that of the northern edge.

He felt his heart rate quicken as he approached the eastern side of the platform. _It _has _to be here. _He had been looking for all of two seconds when his eyes finally found the sight he had been expecting.

'Found it?' Eames asked, coming to a stop next to Arthur. 'Whatever _it _is.'

'Yes,' Arthur said, his voice barely audible above the howling wind. '_There_.'

Eames leant forwards, peering across the panorama of the city. 'What?'

Arthur smiled as he extended his hand toward the large cathedral situated directly in the middle of their view. 'The Notre Dame.'

**A/N: Another relatively short chapter from me. Have to try to squeeze them in around my mountain of reading/writing right now, though I should be able to get the next one up some time tomorrow, hopefully. Though I have a feeling you're going to both love and hate it at the same time, heh. But more of that tomorrow. :P Hope you enjoyed this brief one, and stay tuned for more shortly!**

**EDIT: For those who don't know (which is probably most of you!) Family Fortunes is a British T.V. game show. I realise that I've used a lot of British turns of phrase throughout the story (such as mobile phone, the boot of the car etc.) but have tried to be vigilant when it comes to the American characters' speech. Eames, however, is another thing entirely, and he will say 'bloody' and 'blast' until the cows come home. :) God bless his little cotton socks.**** I also apologise for the mishap a little while ago - I meant to replace chapter 48 with this edited one and accidentally uploaded it as chapter 49 instead! Sorry to get your hopes up. :P  
**


	49. Chapter 49

**A/N: Okay, so this is the REAL chapter 49! Sorry again for last night - I tried to replace 48 with an edited version, and accidentally put it up as a new chapter instead, only realising when I got an email about it! D'oh. I hope you enjoy the proper one, anyhow. :)**

**49.**

Arthur's pace was quick. He knew where they were now; it was just a case of getting to their desired destination in the shortest time possible. His heart was racing, though whether due to the physical exertion or the sense of anticipation that tingled down his spine, he couldn't say. They were close now, he just _knew _it. There was nowhere else she would be in _her _Paris.

'I'm getting too old for this,' Eames puffed as he tried to match Arthur's rapid steps.

'We're nearly there,' Arthur assured him. 'Another few minutes or so, if my calculations are correct.'

If this had been _real_, and he had actually been in the French capital, Arthur would have strolled leisurely down the winding path of the Seine, appreciating its beauty and tradition. He would have admired the dated architecture with little more than an amateur's eye, stopping at all the usual tourist spots, though he had been there several times before.

But this _wasn't _real, and they had a purpose that superseded all else. So he ignored the rippling water and the way the sun glistened on its surface; the Esplanade des Invalides and the Louvre. He focused only on the road ahead, until he could finally see the majesty of the cathedral looming before him. He walked – if possible – even faster, willing his legs to match the speed of his brain, of his desire to find her, to see her again after so very long.

'All right, Red Rum,' Eames called after him, 'no need to run off and leave me behind!'

Arthur ignored him. He didn't stop until he finally reached the side of the Notre Dame, mere metres away from the square its entrance opened up onto. He halted right at the very corner of the building to get his breath back and peered around the empty plaza.

'Any sign of her?' Eames asked, wheezing as he approached the Point Man.

Arthur shook his head and glanced around the square once more. There was _nothing_ there; except for more cafés and bistros and tourist shops. Not a single projection could be seen, which no longer surprised him. What _did _surprise him was the complete absence of any kind of life ... or rather, _her _absence.

He frowned and took a few steps further into the middle of the plaza. He had been so _sure_ that she would be here. After all, where _else _would she be? It was her favourite place in the entire world; where she felt most comfortable, perhaps even most at home.

So where _was _she?

He approached a bench in the centre of the square, narrowing his eyes at its familiarity. He had seen it somewhere before ...

'My God, she's even remembered that blasted bench,' Eames muttered, following Arthur's lead. 'I do believe that was the first time you came face-to-face with your creepy little twin.'

_Ah yes, that was it,_ Arthur thought. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as he recalled the incident. It seemed so long ago now – years as opposed to the days it was in reality.

He wandered over to the bench and sat down, letting out a long breath as he did so. Eames soon joined him. They sat in silence, both staring up at the impressive building before them. Arthur marvelled at her attention to detail; how she had managed to recreate one of the most famous landmarks in the world without a single flaw. That he could see with the naked eye, at least. _She's had the time to do it,_ he thought with a sigh.

They stayed there for a while, Arthur trying to figure out what the hell to do next now that his instinct had failed him. It wasn't often it happened, but when it did, it usually wasn't a good thing.

'What now?' Eames asked, seeming to understand his companion's gloomy thoughts without Arthur voicing them.

Arthur shrugged, and was about to reply when something caught his attention.

_Music?_ It was faint, but it was definitely there.

He jumped up off the bench and marched over to the huge double doors of the cathedral, straining his ears to listen. _No, not here._ He looked right, and then left, closing his eyes and concentrating on his hearing instead.

'Arthur, what – '

'Shh!' Arthur cut him off. 'Listen.'

Eames frowned and did as he was told. 'Music,' he whispered. Arthur nodded. 'From where?'

'I think ... it's this way.'

Arthur headed off down the side street to the left of the Notre Dame, walking as softly as possible so that he could still hear the haunting melody. It drifted towards them on the gentle wind, growing steadily louder and louder. _We're going the right way._

It wasn't long before Arthur could hear the song more distinctly. He could _almost _make out the words; the tune itself sounded oddly familiar. But he couldn't place _why_.

He rounded the corner ... and abruptly stopped.

There before him, no more than ten feet away, was a man sitting at a table outside a café bearing the name _Création Pure_.

Arthur stared at him with no small amount of confusion. _A projection? _It couldn't be; there had been no others the whole time they had been in Limbo.

_Denley?_

No, this man was definitely different. He was ... ancient, for lack of a better word. Almost decrepit. It was no exaggeration to say he looked well over one hundred – perhaps even older. His skin hung in folds on his face, his cheeks sagging further than the rest. His long, wispy silver hair was tied in a ponytail, left to hang against his bent back. His moustache and beard were scraggly, but not unkempt. He was dressed in a pair of denim jeans and blue-and-white plaid shirt, with brown boots completing the outfit. Arthur was almost surprised he wasn't wearing a cowboy hat, too, when he saw the item resting on the chair next to the old man.

Without warning, he suddenly looked up, his sunken, pale blue eyes boring into the Point Man's. Arthur felt his heart skip a beat. _That outfit, and those keen eyes ..._

'Who's _that_?' Eames muttered over Arthur's shoulder.

It took a few seconds for Arthur to regain his composure enough to reply. 'It's ... Cavendish.'

He barely had time to take in his own words before the café door was pushed open, accompanied by a light tinkle of a bell. The song drifted out more clearly now, so that Arthur could finally make out the words.

'_Non, je ne regrette rien ... '_

It wasn't the recognition of the song that stole his breath away for the second time, but the sight of the person walking out of the door bearing a small tray laden with food and drink.

An old, yet sprightly woman in dark jeans and a thin beige jumper.

Wearing a red scarf.

**A/N: The moment you've all been waiting for has finally arrived! And it only took ... well, quite a few chapters. I shall try to get the next one up tonight, if at all possible, but I still have a lot of work to do so can promise nothing.**

**Oh, and for those who don't know, Red Rum is a famous race horse - likely the most famous over here in the UK, and as such was very, very fast. Hence the reference.**

**Toodles for now, and feel free to mull over what could possibly happen in the coming chapter(s). :P  
**


	50. Chapter 50

**A/N: Phew! Chapter 50! I never thought this story would get so long. But there, sometimes things happen that we don't expect, eh? Enjoy. :)**

**50.**

Arthur didn't know who to look at. He wasn't _surprised_ that they had finally found Ariadne – that had been their purpose, after all – but the fact that they _had _felt like a kick in the gut. In a good way.

But seeing Cavendish sitting there, smiling up at her and accepting the mug of coffee and carrot cake that she laid on the table – _that _he had not been expecting. It knocked him for six; his head was reeling as he tried to make sense of the scene before him.

'Cavendish?' Eames muttered in his ear. 'You mean the guy Denley shot during your last Extraction with him? The Mark he sent to Limbo?'

_Well, obviously, _Arthur wanted to shoot back, but he didn't. He _couldn't_. He was too transfixed by the people in front of him. It appeared a routine for them – as though they really were in a café in Paris, enjoying the sunshine and an afternoon snack.

'Can I get something for you, messieurs?'

Arthur stared at her. Her voice was the same as he remembered, yet different, too. It was throatier, husky with age. Her once-dark brown hair was now silver, tied back in a bun at the back of her head, thin tendrils framing her pale face. Her slender fingers were even thinner; her hands were riddled with blue veins, the skin as paper-thin as Denley's had been. Had it not been for her eyes – those wonderful chocolate-brown eyes – and the red scarf he knew so well tied loosely around her neck, he doubted he would have recognised her. He supposed the same could be said about them all – whilst they had not aged quite so much, Eames and he _had _grown older. Their hair was not completely white yet, but it wasn't far off. His own was no longer slicked-back; his suit was not pristine, but so creased he doubted even a steam roller would get every line out.

'Sir?' she said, peering into his face. 'Would you like something to eat or drink?'

Arthur didn't know what to say. So he simply nodded and took up a seat on the table next to Cavendish. Ariadne hurried back inside as Eames followed his example, frowning at the Point Man as he sat down.

'What are you doing?' he murmured. 'Let's just grab her and get out of here.'

Arthur shook his head. 'It's no use. She doesn't remember us at all. I just ... I need to think.'

The bell tinkled again as Ariadne reappeared. Eames shrugged and took the menu she handed to him.

'Thanks, love,' he said with a smile.

He gazed up at her, as though willing her to do – or see – something. She simply returned the smile and turned to Arthur to hand him the other menu. He nodded his thanks as he scanned the goods on offer.

'I'd recommend the latté,' Cavendish croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. Arthur remembered that he used to be a heavy smoker as well as gambler. 'It's the best around. I've been coming here every day for years,' he added, beaming up at Ariadne, who returned the smile. 'Stumbled across it once and never went back. It's marvellous.'

'He's my best customer,' she grinned. 'Always ordering the same thing! You should be a little more adventurous.'

'Ah, at my age, there's no point. Just gotta enjoy the things you love.'

'Nonsense,' Ariadne chided. 'You're never too old for excitement.'

Arthur listened to their exchange in bewildered silence. How long _had _they known each other down here, anyway? They acted like old friends; the thought pinched at Arthur's heart. He quickly dismissed it and looked back up at her.

'I'll have a cappuccino, please,' he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

'And I'll – ' Eames began.

'And a latté, thank you,' Arthur interjected, ignoring the Forger's brief glare.

Ariadne hesitated, looking between the two men, before settling her gaze on Arthur again. A small frown creased her wrinkled brow. _Come on. You remember,_ he willed, his hand clenched around the two totems in his pocket.

'Of course, messieurs,' she said. 'Coming right up.'

She trotted back into the café. Arthur heaved a sigh and shook his head.

'What was _that _about?' Eames muttered. 'I wanted a bloody Americano.'

'It's nothing,' Arthur replied. 'I'm just trying out some things.'

'Fine. But I get the cappuccino. I hate lattés.'

Arthur rolled his eyes and refrained from replying. He had more important things to worry about right then than what drink he got. Like how the hell they were going to get her to remember who she was – who _they _were.

'What's with the café, anyway?' Eames mused.

'She once told me she'd always wanted to own one right by the Notre Dame. It was her second dream, after being an architect.'

'I guess she got both wishes down here,' Eames said, and Arthur couldn't help but note the hint of sadness in his words.

Ariadne returned within a few minutes, carrying their chosen beverages on a small tray. She set the cappuccino down in front of Arthur, and frowned when Eames took it instead.

'I changed my mind,' Arthur said with a small smile. 'I'd rather have the latté, thanks.' Ariadne nodded and handed him the other mug. 'You know, that's a beautiful song you've got playing in there,' he continued, blowing on the hot drink.

'It's one of my favourites,' she replied. 'We always have it on here.'

'Edith Piaf, if I'm not mistaken? I find it's rather comforting to listen to when I just want to chill out with a coffee. A perfect choice, in other words.' Again her brow furrowed ever so slightly, but she said nothing. 'I used to use it as a timer in my line of work. Couldn't do without it.'

'Is – that so?' she murmured. 'It seems to have many uses, in that case.'

'It's personal to everyone, in different ways,' he agreed. 'Whether for pleasure or work.'

'I think it's ridiculous,' Eames chipped in as he sipped his drink. 'Bloody ancient song. You should get with the times.'

Arthur watched the confusion play out across Ariadne's pale face, studying the uncertainty deep in her eyes. _It's working,_ he thought. _It has to be._

'I love it,' she said haughtily, her eyes narrowed at the Forger. 'Excuse me, gentlemen. I have some work to attend to.'

She turned on her heel and hurried back into the café before either man could protest. Arthur rounded on Eames and glowered at him.

'Way to go,' he snapped. 'Now she won't talk to us again.'

'Relax, darling,' the Forger said, leaning back in his chair. 'She'll be back. Right now she's wondering why we seem so familiar. Every little thing helps. So start thinking about other things you can say or do. We need to convince her that this isn't her reality before we can take her back, otherwise it won't work.'

Arthur glanced over at Cavendish, who had been watching their exchange with some interest. The gambler quickly returned his gaze to his own mug, but Arthur knew he was still listening. _What do we do about him?_ he wondered. _We can't just leave him here alone. _He decided he would puzzle over that later. All that mattered then was getting Ariadne back. Everything else could wait.

Eames had been right – she _did _come back out, minutes after rushing inside. She took a seat at Cavendish's table and struck up a conversation with him. Arthur noted her brief looks over at her other two customers, and tried his best not to intimidate her by staring at her the whole time. His hand was still in his pocket, fingering the red die and bronze bishop there. There had to be _something _he could do.

Without really thinking about it, he took his own totem from his pocket and rolled it on the table. _4_. He tried again. _2._ And again. _5._ In reality it would always land on a 6, his lucky number. He watched it for a while, rolling it over and over on the table, until he noticed Cavendish doing the same.

'That's a nice little object you got there,' the gambler said, nodding at the die. 'A lucky charm or something?'

'Or something,' Arthur muttered as it landed on a one. 'I'm sorry, I never caught your name, Mr. ... ?'

'Jones,' Cavendish replied. 'Peter Jones.'

_Yeah, sure. _Arthur refrained from shaking his head.

'Oh, okay then,' he said. 'It's just that you remind me so much of someone I used to know.'

'Is that so?'

Arthur nodded. 'A man in Las Vegas. He was a professional gambler by the name of George Cavendish. My mistake.'

This time both Cavendish and Ariadne stared at him, then at the red die he was teasing through his fingers.

'Yes ... a mistake,' Cavendish muttered. 'Can't possibly be ... '

'It's funny. He used to wear a cowboy hat just like the one you have there.' Cavendish glanced down at his hat. 'And his eyes were _just _like yours. But there, they say we all have a doppelganger somewhere in the world. Perhaps Mr. Cavendish is yours.'

Cavendish nodded slowly. 'Yes, perhaps.'

Arthur looked at Ariadne, who was still watching his fingers as they played with the red die. 'And your name, mademoiselle?'

She jumped, apparently startled by the direct question. 'Oh, er – Olivia Darling.'

Arthur felt his heart thump once in his chest. _She hasn't forgotten everything, even if she doesn't realise it. _He forced himself to smile at her.

'A pleasure to meet you. I'm Arthur, and this is my good friend Robert Eames.'

'_Enchanté_, darling,' Eames said with a nod at her.

Arthur watched as she began to play with the tablecloth, absent-mindedly twisting it into a knot. This time his lips curved into a genuine smile. They could to this. They _had _to.

'You don't read Agatha Christie, by any chance?' he asked.

Her eyes slid over to his, her hands still fretting with the cloth. 'Yes, as a matter of fact. She's my favourite author. I think Ariadne Oliver is a wonderful creation.'

'I prefer Poirot myself,' Arthur smirked. 'And his 'little grey cells'.'

Ariadne jumped up suddenly, staring down at the two men with a mixture of uncertainty and ... suspicion mingling in her expression. Arthur stood up, too, his eyes boring into hers – trying to calm her down? _Willing _her to remember? He didn't know. But he was sure – no, he _knew _– they were close to blowing it. He had gone too far, pushed it too much. They were losing her ...

'I'm sorry, messieurs,' she said, her voice trembling slightly. 'The café is now closed. Please, come back tomorrow.'

Cavendish began to grumble, glaring up at the two men as he picked up his hat. Eames got to his feet and placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder. To console him? Encourage him? _What the hell should I do?_

Ariadne turned to walk back into the café. Arthur stumbled away from the table, knocking the chairs over in his haste to reach her. He grasped her wrist, forcing her to look at him.

'No, please,' he urged, ignoring the frightened look in her dark eyes. 'Don't leave. I need you to come back with me.'

This time the déjà vu hit _him_. That same desperation – an image of a coffee bar, crowds of people, an airport – all flashed through his mind.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the tinkling of a bell. It wasn't until he saw the familiar three-piece suit, the slicked-back hair; until he felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed to his temple, that he realised what was going on.

His eyes were still locked on hers. He could feel her trembling beneath his touch. His heart sank with the realisation. S_he's scared of me. She doesn't trust me._

'_There's no-one I feel safer with, Arthur. I trust you with my life.'_

He had one thought before the inevitable happened. _I can't die here. I've got to bring her back._

And so he did the only thing he could think of. His lips curved into a sad smile as he looked down at her aged face and uttered the only words that came to mind.

'Quick, give me a kiss.'

**A/N: For those worried that this will descend into cheesiness - don't! It won't do, I promise. :P At least not yet.**

**I did say a few chapters ago that there would be one or two more cliffhangers - so this should be the last one you have to put up with! As far as I have it planned in my mind. Again, no promises etc., and I know this is a mean one (aren't they all?), but I had to end the chapter somewhere. Besides, work beckons, so I shall love and leave you and hopefully see you some time in the next few days for the next chapter. Until then - adieu! Or should I say, au revoir?  
**


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N: So I got some more of my work done and decided to take some time out to do this instead. Enjoy. :)**

**51.**

She moved instinctively, closing the gap between them as though urged on by some deep-seated, half-realised impulse. She felt his hand snake around her waist, settling on the small of her back, pulling her flush against him as their lips met.

It was brief, chaste, and yet urgent all at once. The latter mostly on his part.

Within seconds she had her hands on his chest, pushing him away from her. She stared up at him, dazed, furious. How _dare_ this stranger waltz into _her _café and kiss her, demand that she come with him? Who did he think he was?

She hardly registered the hurt in his dark eyes as she took a step back and slapped him across the cheek, as hard as her aging body could muster.

It was then she realised that someone else was standing next to her. She turned, only to find a young man with a gun pressed to the stranger's head, his cold eyes fixed on his target. It appeared as though he were waiting – but for what? A sign, allowing him to shoot? She felt a tremor start in her knees and ripple upwards as she watched him, expecting _something_ to happen.

But nothing did.

He simply stood there, still as a statue, whilst the other man had his eyes set on _her_, rubbing his cheek with his hand.

'Well, at least he hasn't shot yet,' the man called Eames muttered. 'That's something, at least.'

She looked at him, then back at the stranger gazing down at her. 'Who _are _you?' she demanded. 'What do you want with me?'

Arthur – was that his name? – tried to take a step closer to her, but she held up her hand to stop him. 'Ariadne, please ... you've _got _to remember us.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' she said coldly. 'And my name is _not _Ariadne. It's Olivia.'

'Ariadne – '

She didn't wait to hear anymore. Before he could even attempt to stop her she had fled, pushing past him and running off down the street. She couldn't take any more of it – the confusion, the false claims that these outsiders persisted in voicing. She needed time alone – to think, to scream – whatever the urge was.

She found an open grassy area not too far away – her third favourite spot in the city, behind the Notre Dame and her own café. It was always so peaceful, beautiful – a place where she could come and mull things over.

She approached the empty space with her mind racing, images swirling across her vision – the young man in the pristine suit – the elder gentleman in ... almost identical attire, though without the slicked-back hair – a garden chair in the middle of a vast, near-vacant warehouse – a set of never-ending, twisting stairs ...

Before she even knew what was happening, those very same stairs sprung up from the ground beneath her feet. She watched, awe-struck, as they rumbled upwards, then stopped just as abruptly.

She hesitated before putting her foot on the bottom step. She walked up ... and up ... and up. They were on an endless loop, she realised – everlasting stairs. The idea fascinated her, so much so that she continued to climb them until she heard a cough from below.

Arthur was standing there, watching her ascent with keen eyes. Behind him was the young man in the near-identical suit, gun still in hand, though he was no longer pointing it at the elder gentleman.

'You have to visualise them separating,' Arthur told her. 'Otherwise they'll just keep on going forever.'

Her brow furrowed as she considered his words, then she nodded. This time when she approached one of the corners, the stairs stopped. She met with a sheer drop instead, and peered over the edge at the men below.

'Paradox,' Arthur called up to her; she could see the hint of a smile playing on his thin lips. 'The Penrose Steps, one of the most famous optical illusions.'

'If it's only optical, how comes I've managed to build them here?' she asked, curious despite her wariness.

Arthur put his own foot on the bottom step and slowly ascended them, coming to a stop next to her. He gazed over the edge, too, down at the lush grass beneath.

'In dreams we can create extraordinary things,' he muttered close to her ear. 'Things we couldn't even imagine in the real world.'

She took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked at him. He watched her shake her head with an impassive expression – but she could see, deep in his eyes, a sense of urgency, a desperation for her to believe him.

But how could she? How _could_ she accept such wild statements? She had lived here for years – almost her entire life. And now, suddenly, these men turn up and expect her to throw it all away?

'I don't believe you,' she whispered, her hands quivering by her side.

'Don't you see?' he continued, his own voice matching the lowness of hers. 'How do you think you can create things at the drop of a hat – just by _thinking _about them? Do you not remember where you first saw these?' He gestured to the winding steps with a wave of his hand. 'Once, long ago – in the depths of a dream?'

Still she shook her head. She could feel her legs giving way beneath her and collapsed to the floor, gripping the edge of one of the stairs for support. He moved to sit next to her, slowly, as though fearing to frighten her again. She watched as he reached into his pocket and drew out a small object – a bronze chess piece. _A bishop,_ she realised immediately. He placed it beside her ... and waited.

He said nothing as they both looked down at it. She scrutinised it for a few minutes, before picking it up and inspecting it more closely.

'I don't think it matters that I touched it,' he said as she turned it over in her palm. 'I don't know its unique properties up top, so can't compare them down here.'

She ignored his strange words, focusing instead on the item in her hand. It was cool beneath her fingers. She ran her thumb over the smooth metal, then set it back down on the step.

And pushed it with her index finger.

Nothing happened. She frowned. She had been expecting _something_ to happen – but what?

'It won't topple here, I shouldn't imagine,' Arthur said. 'I assume that's the property you gave it. It will only fall in reality.'

'Would you please stop saying that?' she snapped. 'Words like 'reality' and 'dreams'. It's ridiculous.'

She noted the flash of surprise that crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a calm resignation. If anything, it only irritated her further. It was as though he was all-knowing, bearing a secret that she wasn't privy to. Or one that she didn't _want _to know ...

She raised a hand to her forehead and began to rub it, trying to straighten out her spiralling thoughts. They were like the damn steps she was sitting on – never-ending, chasing each other around in her mind, driving her crazy. If only she could make them stop, could see the end ...

'You _do _remember,' he said softly. 'Even if you don't realise it. The name you're using – the doubt over little things I said back then – even _him _down there.' He jerked his thumb towards the young man waiting at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes never leaving Arthur. 'I can only imagine that he didn't shoot me back there because – somewhere deep inside – you believe me. Or at least, you _want _to. You don't feel quite so threatened by me as you did at the café.'

He looked down at her wrist, and she did the same. A faint bruise was starting to form beneath the thin layer of skin. She glanced back up to find him frowning, his eyes shining with shame and remorse. She watched as he reached out and took her hand in his, making no move to stop him as he began to rub her wrist lightly with the pad of his thumb. The movement soothed her. Goosebumps erupted on her skin under his touch. It felt ... nice. Almost ... familiar.

Slender fingers holding her wrist – a needle entering her vein – dark eyes averted from her own.

She blinked against the images that flashed across her mind. Where had they come from?

'I'm sorry ... for before,' he murmured. 'I didn't mean to hurt you.'

She shook her head, unable to say anything. She focused instead on the feel of his fingers as they caressed her wrist, on his dark eyes as they deliberately avoided her own. Why did this man – this stranger, for all intents and purposes – seem so oddly familiar?

Could it be ... he was telling the truth? That she _did _know him? _From a half-remembered dream ..._

'You once told me your favourite place in the entire world was right here, in Paris, outside the Notre Dame,' he ventured, apparently emboldened by her silence. 'That you secretly wanted to own a café nearby, so you could gaze at its beauty every day. It seems you got your wish.'

He breathed a sigh as he let go of her wrist, resting his hands on his lap as he gazed off into the distance. She realised – with some discomfort – that she missed the feel of his fingers on her skin. Her hand felt cold now, almost ... lonely.

'You know, Cobb said never to build from memories,' he said.

'Yeah, well, Cobb always _did_ spend a lot of time doing things he said not to.'

The words were out of her mouth before she even realised what she was saying. She blinked again, then looked up at him. The sense of urgency was back in his eyes, coupled with ... hope? She had said something – something that had made him _believe_. But she wasn't even sure what she had meant.

'Ariadne, _try _to remember. Please,' he urged, grasping her hands with both of his as he leant closer to her. 'The warehouse – the _dreams_ – the Inception.'

Images stabbed at her mind again, like thousands of tiny needles – a hotel – 528 – an airport – a strong pair of hands around her waist – a blonde man, with those terrifyingly cold eyes ...

'... _Denley?_' she breathed, her hands trembling beneath his.

She knew – somehow she _knew_ – that she was right. Yes, that was his name. That vile, _hateful_ man – the one responsible for everything ...

A plan – a bathroom brawl – the blood, oh God the blood – a gunshot ...

'He shot me,' she gasped. Her heart was beating fit to burst in her chest. 'He _shot _me ... '

Arthur didn't reply. He simply withdrew his hands from hers and wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in a tight embrace. She could feel his breath against her ear as he murmured 'Thank God' over and over again. She buried her face in his creased shirt, letting the tears flow and soak into the soft fabric.

And his voice, from years ago. His soft, mesmerising voice, speaking her name. _Ariadne. _The anticipation she had felt, when he had _almost_ touched her cheek. The feeling of disappointment when he hadn't. It all came flooding back, the wave of memories crashing over her as she sat there, sobbing, lost in the emotion of it all.

'Arthur?' she mumbled, her voice muffled as it vibrated against his chest.

'Yes, Ari?'

The words juddered down her spine, his chin resting on the top of her head. She felt her lips curve into a small smile as he used her nickname. He had never called her by it before. Not to her memory, at least ...

'Thank you. For finding me. For saving my life.'

She felt him shake his head. 'You once told me you trusted me with your life,' he replied, squeezing her a little more firmly. 'I wasn't about to let you down again.'

Neither one noticed the absence of the young man below; the faint flicker as he disappeared, this time for good.

Suddenly – inexplicably – it felt as though the intervening years had never happened. That she wasn't an old lady, living out her life alone in an empty city in the depths of her own subconscious. That she had never lost her memory – her own sense of self, the most important thing of all.

None of it mattered.

For he was here now, and she realised – how could she have possibly forgotten? – that it was all she had ever wanted.

**A/N: So, yes ... a teensy bit of cheesiness at the end there. :P I couldn't help it! They deserve some small amount of fluff, I think, after all they've been through.  
**

**Now, I know it seems like I'm always picking on something in the story, but I'm a little worried about the last bit. I suppose it's really one chapter split into two (first half being chapter 50, of course, though from Arthur's POV.) It took a little while to write the whole chapter, so it didn't feel like it at the time, but reading back over it seems a little ... rushed, perhaps. I'm not sure. Hopefully it doesn't appear forced/contrived in any way. If it does, feel free to let me know and I may edit it when I have the chance. For now I shall leave it and drop into bed. And worry that I didn't actually start the book I have to read for Thursday ... d'oh. Never mind.**


	52. Chapter 52

**A/N: I'm back! I think this has been the longest gap between updating for this story, surprisingly enough. I hope the wait wasn't too bad, and you enjoy this next chapter. :)**

**52.**

They sat there for a long time, Arthur with his arms around Ariadne as she buried her face in his shirt and kept her eyes tightly closed. He wondered just what she was thinking about, and thought it highly likely to be her memories of 'reality', now that they had seemingly come back to her. As for the Point Man, he was doing what he did best – formulating a plan, this time to get them out of Limbo for good.

After a while Ariadne pulled back and looked up at Arthur, appearing to study him for some time before speaking. 'You know, you broke your promise to me,' she said softly.

Arthur swallowed and grimaced at her. 'Which one?'

There had been so many vows he had made, to various people over the last ... was it a week now? He couldn't remember.

'When you said you'd never kiss me in a dream again.'

Arthur stared at her, his eyebrows raised. _How on earth has she managed to remember _that_?_

'You're right,' he said, nodding. 'I'm very sorry. It'll never happen again.'

'That's what you said last time,' Ariadne smirked, absent-mindedly stroking his arm. 'And now look where that's got us.'

Arthur smiled back at her and wondered how he could possibly feel so content sitting on the Penrose Steps in the middle of a dream-Paris in the depths of Limbo. Not to mention the fact that he was now nearer twice his real age and had developed crow's feet around his eyes. He thought he was beginning to understand how Mal had felt – how she had been so willing to accept Limbo as her reality, enough to want to stay there forever with the man she loved, indulging in every possible method of creation until her artistic thirst was finally quenched.

Sitting under the bright sunshine, the wind tousling his thinning hair, holding the woman he had spent half a lifetime trying to find – it was almost idyllic. A life he could _almost _get used to.

Ariadne reached up and quite unexpectedly ran her slender hand through his hair. He jerked back, the movement instinctive rather than reactive. Ariadne pouted at him, her petulant expression enough to make him chuckle.

'Oh, come on,' she whined. 'I just wanted to feel what your hair was like without all that gel stuck in it. It's all nice and fluffy now.'

'You sound like a woman a quarter of your age,' Arthur retorted. 'Perhaps even younger than your _real _self.'

Ariadne slapped him on the arm and turned away. 'Don't remind me,' she huffed. 'I don't want to think about how I've got to live out this life _again _and grow old a second time. Once was enough.'

Arthur leant closer to her once more, his mouth mere inches away from her right ear. 'At least next time you won't have to do it alone.'

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed slightly, before breaking out into a smile. It was, in effect, yet another promise from him. But he had kept his last one, hadn't he? He had searched – for _years _– until he found her. He had followed her under to bring her back. _After failing to protect her in the first place. _The thought niggled his mind, as it had done every day since she had been taken from the airport; every day up top, and every day in Limbo, too. It had haunted the usually-unflappable Point Man, more than he had dared to admit.

'I'm sorry,' he said suddenly. Ariadne gave him a quizzical look. 'For everything. This,' he waved his around in front of him. 'It's my fault. Yes, it is,' he insisted as she opened her mouth to protest.

Before he could continue she had her finger on his lips, silencing him. 'I don't need any more reminding of my old life – my _real _life,' she murmured. '_You _may not remember it, but we've had this conversation once before, a long time ago. In fact, it was just after I came out of Limbo for the first time. And I told you then what I'll tell you now – it's _not _your fault. Things happen. _Shit _happens.' Arthur felt himself smile against his better judgement. 'I mean, what is it with you Extractors and your ridiculous obsession with guilt? One would think you'd be used to it all by now.' She shook her head, as though disapproving of his outburst. 'When we get out of here, none of it will matter. And yes, I mean _when _– I trust you, Arthur. I always have.'

Arthur bowed his head, humbled by her words. It was strange, really, how much they had all changed since the Inception. He would never have doubted himself back then; he once had complete confidence in his ability to get things done, no matter the circumstances. And Ariadne – she had always been spirited, strong-willed, even headstrong, and yet had seemed to lose some of that during the week of their captivity. Understandably so, of course. They had been through so much – more than they could ever have anticipated after such a gruelling job. He had been expecting a rest, some downtime, not to be hauled into the most dangerous situation he had ever faced.

And yet, here they were. Sitting on the Penrose Steps in the middle of a dream-Paris in the depths of Limbo. The wind tousling his thinning hair. He holding the woman he had spent half a lifetime trying to find – the woman, he could now admit to himself, that he had gradually fallen for. He had fought against the idea during that week in the warehouse, telling himself he had more important things to think about – like how to rid themselves of the threat of Denley and get out of there alive.

But now ... there was nothing else in the way. Just the two of them, sitting there together, lost in their thoughts of the other.

He told himself not to think too far ahead – to just live in the moment, as atypical as that was of him. He was used to planning every detail of his life far in advance, preparing himself for the next job. But right now, he couldn't tell _what _was going to happen, _how _they would make this work back in the real world. All that mattered was that they would _try_, and try their best.

'We should go back,' Ariadne muttered. Arthur hadn't noticed her hand on his, her thumb gently grazing his knuckles. 'They might start to worry.'

Arthur snorted. 'I doubt Eames ever worries about anything,' he said.

'No, probably not,' Ariadne replied.

Arthur stood up, dusted down his trousers and offered her his hand. She took it, gripping it tightly. Arthur smiled when she didn't let it go, and lead the way back down the stairs. It was then he noticed the absence of his younger double and paused briefly, staring at the spot the projection had been standing earlier. Ariadne appeared to be doing the same, though she said nothing. She simply gave his hand a quick squeeze and pulled him away, back down the street toward the café. Eames' words came back to him, drifting across his thoughts as they walked in silence: _'He's the man she needs you to be. But that's not who she wants you to be.'_

Well, he could be both, he decided. The rational, efficient protector (he _would _fufil that role this time, if need be) she needed as well as the friend and – he hoped – lover that she wanted. He had already changed so much because of – and most importantly _for _– her. And he found that he didn't mind. He _liked _the changes she had affected in him. Perhaps unwittingly she had made him realise how dull his life had been, how closed-off he was with everyone, and how much he yearned to make an emotional connection with someone again. Yes, it had been difficult after his family's deaths, but he knew now that he had to take the bad with the good – to overcome the lows of any relationship so that he could revel in the highs.

At the core of it all, he supposed he just didn't want to be alone anymore. He was fed up with moving from one job – and person – to the next with nothing but boredom in between. Perhaps he should take some time out, to reflect on everything that had happened and consider the future – as he had done so long ago, after the Cavendish job. Perhaps he should follow Cobb's example and retire from Extraction, at least for now? It would be the smart thing to do, he knew.

There was so much to contemplate; he couldn't even begin to wrap his head around it. So he simply clung to Ariadne's hand, to the promise of a new life that she offered. He allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of her slender fingers curled through his, the warmth that radiated between them at that small point of contact. He would cherish these small moments for now.

The rest could wait.

**A/N: Okay - I think I should have this story finished before my next day at uni on Thursday. That's my aim, at least. And perhaps at least another chapter up today, as I'm taking it relatively easy after rather hectic days at uni Thursday and Friday. So be on the lookout soon!**


	53. Chapter 53

**53.**

They walked in comfortable silence the whole way, neither one tempted to break it with unnecessary words. They simply enjoyed each other's company, the feel of their hands intertwined. It was enough, for now.

They arrived back at the café to find Eames and Cavendish sitting together, deep in conversation and apparently oblivious to the couple's appearance. It wasn't until Arthur gave a small cough that they looked up, the Forger's face splitting into a wide grin at the sight of their close proximity to one another.

'I'll say it again,' he began, standing up and clapping Arthur on the shoulder. 'I was completely wrong about you, and glad to be so.'

Eames let his eyes rest on Ariadne – uncertainly, Arthur realised. He hesitated for the briefest of moments, before enveloping the petite Architect in a tight embrace. Arthur released her hand and took a few steps away, watching the scene with some satisfaction. After all, had it not been for Eames, he may never have found her at all. He likely would have shared the same fate as Denley and Ariadne – hit by near-total amnesia and wandering Limbo completely alone. It wasn't a particularly comforting thought, and maybe – he mused – _maybe _he could forgive Eames's constant ribbing and irritating quirks. For a while, at least.

'It's good to have you back, love,' Eames muttered in Ariadne's ear. 'I'm not sure how he would have coped if we hadn't found you – worse if we had and hadn't been able to bring you back.'

Arthur wondered if he was meant to have heard that last part – and decided that, knowing Eames, he likely was. Ariadne glanced up at him as the Forger finally released her, perhaps only now comprehending the depth of Arthur's feelings for her. He had had years to develop them, after all, with nothing much else to think about in the meantime besides how to get her back. She, on the other hand, had forgotten him entirely, spending years without even thinking about him. His heart ached at the realisation.

Arthur turned away from her gaze, feeling suddenly very exposed under it, and looked over at Cavendish instead. It seemed he, too, had been watching the exchange with some interest, his keen eyes taking in each of the three companions. Arthur felt the warmth that had been building up since bringing Ariadne back vanish as he considered the man's fate once more. Again the thought occurred to him: _What are we going to do with him?_ He couldn't leave him there, alone yet again once they took Ariadne back. It seemed the two of them had built up a rapport together, a friendship forged in the unlikeliest of places. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he forsook him, not now he finally had the chance to right the wrong Denley had inflicted on the gambler – at least, in his own small way.

'Mr. Jones,' Arthur ventured, drawing the elderly man's attention.

Cavendish held up his hand to quieten him. 'You've no need to say anything, young man,' he croaked. 'I already know my real name and what this place is.'

Arthur stared at him, stunned into silence, then rounded on Eames. The Forger shrugged and flashed him a quick smile.

'We had a little chat whilst you were gone,' he explained. 'I managed to tease some memories out of him. Not many, but enough for him to finally realise that this isn't real.'

Arthur's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. How the hell had he managed such a feat so quickly? Cavendish had been down in Limbo for decades – a little over a year in 'real time', if he wasn't mistaken – and yet Eames had been able to convince him that it wasn't his reality in the time it had taken him to do the same thing with Ariadne, if not less.

'Eames,' he began with a smirk, 'I _am_ impressed.'

The Forger grinned at the shared memory. 'Your condescension is, as always Arthur, much appreciated. Thank you.'

Except, of course, this time Arthur _wasn't _patronising him. He was genuinely astounded by his friend's accomplishment.

'How did you do it?' he asked, looking between Eames and Cavendish. 'Surely words alone weren't enough?'

Eames shook his head and nodded at the table. 'I couldn't have done it without that.'

Arthur followed his gaze and found himself looking at his own totem, the red die sitting in stark contrast to the white tablecloth beneath it. He felt his gut wrench as Cavendish picked it up and began to roll it around in his palm, but calmed himself down with his own advice. _He doesn't know its properties up top, so it doesn't matter if he touches it down here, _he reasoned. Besides, Cavendish clearly had more need of it now than he did. If it was the only way to bring the man back – so be it.

'Arthur, can I have a quick word with you?' Eames asked suddenly.

Arthur turned to him, surprised at the meaningful look in his eyes. He nodded and followed the Forger away from the café to the other side of the street, aware that both Ariadne and Cavendish were watching them the whole time.

Eames leant towards Arthur when they stopped. 'Look, I'm not sure I did the right thing,' he said, his voice low enough that it was inaudible to the others. 'I mean, I know we couldn't exactly leave the poor bastard alone down here, but you know what it'll be like when we get back. He'll be a vegetable, with no memory of ... well, anything. Just like down here. Except I don't think he'll ever get it back.'

'I know,' Arthur muttered. 'But you're right – we _can't _leave him down here. It wouldn't – it wouldn't be right. He should at least have the _chance_ at a proper life again. It's got to be better than being stuck down here forever.'

Eames nodded his agreement and walked back over to the table at which Cavendish was sitting. Arthur moved to stand next to Ariadne, unable to help the smile that tugged at his lips when she took hold of his hand once again.

'Right, old man,' Eames began, clapping his hands together. 'Are you ready to get out of this dump?'

Cavendish chuckled and got up from his chair. 'I'll have you know this is no dump, sonny,' he said, looking across at Ariadne. 'It's the most beautiful place I've ever been to. Here _and _back home, I'm sure. And I shall be sorry to leave. I don't suppose the lattés are quite as good up there.'

'I'm sure the real ones are much better than mine,' Ariadne told him, returning his smile. 'I was never very good at making them.'

'Nonsense,' Cavendish retorted. 'They were wonderful, just like their creator.'

'All right, enough about the bloody lattés,' Eames sighed. 'You can have as many as you want once we get back.'

He shook his head and turned away, and Arthur could have sworn he heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'not even that nice'. He was about to argue the point when Ariadne suddenly looked up at him, a small frown creasing her brow.

'Do you ... ' She paused and swallowed. 'Do you have a gun?'

Arthur shook his head and grimaced when he saw her visibly relax at his admission. All those times he had been forced to shoot her to wake her up ... but no longer. He would put a stop to that. If she hated the thought so much ...

'I was thinking of something ... a little more adventurous.'

**A/N: Getting closer! Only another 4 chapters to go, as I see it - although you never know what could transpire once I actually start writing them. Still, it won't be too much more than that, at any rate.**

**Stay tuned for the next one (or more) tomorrow, and have a goodnight everyone! Well, morning now over here since it's nearly 2.30am, but hey, I woke up late so it's all good. :)  
**


	54. Chapter 54

**A/N: Just a brief note to say I got it wrong last chapter - I meant there are 5 more (including this one), not 4. Two of them are already written, so just another 3 after this! Unless I decide to amalgamate the last two into one chapter, in which case it would be 4, after all ... hmm. Okay, just ignore my waffle and hopefully enjoy the next chapter instead. :P**

**54.**

'Arthur, where are we going?'

It was the second time she had asked the question; like last time, Arthur replied with a simple, 'You'll see.'

Eames was a little less polite with his demand. 'Now look here, darling – I've a mind to shove this poker chip where the sun doesn't shine. I've had enough bloody suspense for one lifetime, so if you don't tell us what you're thinking – '

'So eloquent, as always,' Arthur chuckled. 'As I said – you'll see soon enough. Patience is a virtue.'

'I'll give you virtue,' Eames muttered darkly.

Arthur could hear him flipping the chip on his thumb, the faint slap as he snatched it out of the air and repeated the process several times over. He couldn't stop the grin that split across his face, and was quite glad the Forger was currently languishing behind him. He was sure he wouldn't take kindly to the Point Man's amusement at his expense.

Before long they were strolling alongside the Seine, looking out across the other side of the sprawling city. They could see the police prefecture on the island city, which reminded Arthur of a flattish type of castle with its turret-like features breaking up the long walls; the French Parliament, looming before them like an Ancient Greek temple; the Louvre to their right, with its two glass pyramids. He knew the Pantheon was some way to the left over the river, completing the city's remarkable homage to the three ancient civilisations. He was still left breathless at how authentic Ariadne's recreation was. He was itching to ask how long it had taken her to build, but something stopped him. Perhaps it was a fear of reminding her of the long years she had been down here; perhaps he was worried that she would become too attached to her wonderful creation and reluctant to leave it. Whatever it was, he kept his lips tightly pursed and quickened his pace, almost dragging Ariadne along with him.

'Arthur, what's wrong?' she asked. 'Why are you rushing?'

He slowed down a touch, enough for her to keep up with his long strides with quick ones of her own. 'Sorry,' he murmured. 'Come on, we're nearly there.'

He knew she hadn't missed his avoidance of the question, but she graciously refrained from persisting with it. He caught the glances she gave him as they walked, and wondered how she would feel about his suggestion. They had no gun; they didn't really have much of a choice in the matter, but still ... how would she – and the others – take it?

Arthur heard Eames' surprised mutter behind him as he spotted their destination in the distance. 'You're quite the dark romantic, aren't you?' he called out to the Point Man. 'I would never have guessed it.'

Ariadne looked over her shoulder at him, then back at Arthur. 'What's he talking about?'

Arthur sighed. _Trust Eames to ruin the surprise._ Perhaps he would reconsider his decision to forgive the Forger, after all.

'Over there,' he said, pointing to the landmark as it grew steadily larger the closer they got to it.

Ariadne followed his finger with her eyes ... and gasped when she realised what he was talking about. 'The Eiffel Tower?'

'Yes, very imaginative,' Eames groaned. 'We've been there once already today. My old legs won't thank you for this.'

Arthur felt Ariadne tense beside him and glanced down at her. 'I was going to choose the Notre Dame,' he said softly, 'but I thought that would be ... well, a bit wrong. It's not high enough, anyway. Just in case ... ' He trailed off, then gave a cough to clear his throat. 'We don't have a gun, and I couldn't think of another way to do it. Are you ... okay with that?'

He noticed the pause before she nodded her head, but chose to ignore it. There really _was _no other way – not unless they all wanted to jump under a train the way Cobb had. He thought his approach would be slightly less traumatic – _just_. The fact that she hadn't turned around and started running gave him some hope. _She said she trusted you, _he told himself. _Do her a favour and show some faith in her, too._

It didn't take long to reach the Tower once everyone knew their destination. To Arthur's surprise, it was Cavendish who hesitated outside the elevator that would take them to the second level, where they would then have to take a second lift to the very top. The old man stopped, watching the other three as they filed through the door.

'What's wrong?' Arthur asked.

Cavendish coughed and raked his eyes over the huge metal structure that towered above them. 'Why are we going up?'

Arthur felt Ariadne squirm beside him. Clearly Eames hadn't explained _this _particular part of their journey back to reality.

'Just get in, old boy,' Eames said, stepping back out to guide Cavendish into the elevator. 'We'll enlighten you on the way.'

Cavendish threw him a suspicious glance, but didn't protest any further. Arthur hit the 'up' button as soon as everyone was safely inside.

Nobody said a word as they ascended to the second level. The tension between them was almost palpable. Arthur began to tap his foot on the floor, faster and faster, until he felt the quick squeeze Ariadne gave his hand. He immediately stopped and looked down at her; she simply smiled in response and clutched his hand even tighter.

Still no-one spoke as they made their way to the next lift, the wind whipping around them. It was almost strong enough to knock them over the edge, were they even just a little careless. Arthur wrapped his arm around Ariadne's waist and pulled her closer to him.

'Will someone tell me what's going on?' Cavendish grumbled as they stepped into the next elevator.

Eames shared a brief look with Arthur, before breathing out a long sigh. 'All right, here's the deal – we can't get back to reality without killing ourselves here first.'

Cavendish stared at him, his sunken eyes wide. 'Excuse me?'

'It's the only way out of Limbo,' Arthur explained. 'Once someone's accepted it's not real, that is.'

'Oh, no,' Cavendish said, shaking his head. 'I see where you're going with this. You want us to jump off this damn structure, don't you? Well you can count me out. No way in hell am I throwing myself off the Eiffel Tower. I mean, Jesus Christ ... '

'It's the only way,' Arthur insisted. 'Unless you want to be stuck down here forever, alone, _knowing _it's not real.'

Cavendish narrowed his eyes at the Point Man, then glanced down at his hand. Arthur noticed his red die nestled in the old man's palm.

'Why are you so eager to help me?' Cavendish muttered. 'You don't _know _me. I've never seen you before.'

Arthur watched at the man for a long time before replying. 'Yes, you have,' he said quietly. 'You just don't remember.'

Eames shot him a sharp look, as though warning him against the idea he knew was in Arthur's mind. Arthur ignored him and focused on Cavendish again.

'If you recall, in your _real _life, you were once a highly successful gambler.' The old man nodded and gripped Arthur's totem between his skeletal fingers; it was an almost identical replica of his own favoured loaded die. 'The casino bosses weren't too happy with you back then, and hired my partners and I to find out whether you were cheating. Have you ever heard of Extraction before?' Cavendish hesitated before shaking his head. 'It's related to dreams. We're paid to pull someone into a dream and steal the information they're trying to conceal.'

An awkward silence descended over the group. Cavendish clearly wasn't sure whether to believe Arthur or not. He stared at the Point Man for a while before speaking.

'That still doesn't explain how I got here,' he said.

'I would go into the specifics with you, Mr. Cavendish, but it would take a long time to explain. Usually, if something goes wrong we can just kill ourselves in the dream and wake up in the real world. But for your job we used a sedative, which essentially means if you die in the dream, you don't wake up. You drop into Limbo instead.'

'So I died in that ... dream?'

Arthur nodded. 'My colleague ... shot you. We didn't even know he was going to do it, or we would _never_ – '

He stopped abruptly, feeling the anger bubble up inside of him at the thought of what Denley had done back then. He had never been able to rid himself of the image of _that_ particular scene – Denley pulling his gun out – pressing it to Cavendish's head – their Mark dropping to the floor, the blood pooling beneath him. He hadn't been able to sleep for weeks without seeing Cavendish when he closed his eyes. And now here he was, several years older than his real-life counterpart, looking the Point Man in the eye with no memory of what had happened to him so long ago.

'I'm sorry,' Arthur said.

There really was nothing else he could add. He couldn't say that he could take it back, because he couldn't. He couldn't say that everything was going to be fine now, because it wasn't. There was _nothing _he could do to make up the lost years, the ruined life of a once popular, successful man. 'I'm sorry' didn't even begin to cover it.

But Cavendish accepted his words with a quick nod, a small smile that made Arthur feel intensely ashamed of himself. He hadn't pulled the trigger back then, but they were all accountable for what had happened to this man. He would never be able to escape that harsh fact.

'There's no point dwelling on the past,' Cavendish said with a shrug. 'What's done is done. I'm just grateful you found me down here and set things straight. I know how hard that must have been, owning up to me like that, and I appreciate your honesty. Most people would have just hidden from it and pretended it never happened.'

Arthur didn't know what to say. To be forgiven, after all this time, by the man he had thought about almost every day for a more than a year – he couldn't say it was a weight lifted off his shoulders, but it went some way towards helping.

The elevator juddered to a halt. Nobody moved; each one seemed to waiting for someone else. The doors slid open, the grinding sound startling them all. Eventually Eames stepped out onto the small platform, quickly followed by Cavendish.

Ariadne looked up at Arthur, her eyes searching his, but for what he could not say. She still held his hand firmly in her own.

'I'm proud of you,' she said quietly. 'For what you just did. He was right – it took a lot of courage to tell him that.' Arthur made a face, but remained silent. 'It did,' she insisted. 'He didn't _need _to know. We could have jumped with him none the wiser.'

'It won't make a difference anyway,' Arthur sighed. 'He won't remember when he wakes up.'

'Perhaps not,' Ariadne agreed. 'But it would have made a difference to _him_, right now. And that's what matters.'

She didn't wait for his reply before pulling him out of the elevator after the others. They were standing in one corner of the platform, gazing down at the ground below. The wind was even stronger up here, and Arthur held onto Ariadne as tightly as he could. It was ridiculous, really, when he thought about it; they would soon be jumping anyway. But he wanted it to be on his terms, not the weather's.

'It's a long way down,' Eames shouted above the howling wind. 'Are you sure about this?'

'There's no other way,' Arthur called back. 'Not if we want to get back before we drop into a coma.'

He tried not to look at Cavendish as he said it, and hoped the old man missed his glance. Eames nodded and gripped onto the railing as he peered over the edge again.

'I suppose I'll see you up top then,' he said with a smile.

Arthur hardly had time to react before the Forger leapt over the barrier. He took an involuntary step forward, but it was far too late.

'Well now,' Cavendish said with a low whistle. 'That doesn't look too hard, does it?' He let out a nervous chuckle and looked over the side. 'I guess it's like a Band-Aid, right? Quick and painless. Quick ... and painless ... '

He took a deep breath, grasped the railing beneath both hands – and before either of the others could say anything, had launched himself over the edge faster than Arthur would have thought possible for a man of his apparent age.

It left just the two of them. Arthur turned to Ariadne, who looked slightly paler than she had done minutes earlier.

'Are you ready for this?' he asked, leaning closer to her so she could hear him.

She nodded. 'It's now or never, right?' she said with a quick smile – that seemed more like a grimace. 'The others will be expecting us. We shouldn't keep them waiting.'

Arthur gripped the barrier with his left hand, his right still clutching Ariadne's. He gazed out over the vast expanse of her city, marvelling at its beauty for the last time. He tried to picture the world up top – what it had looked like, where they had left off – but he couldn't remember.

'Shall we ... go?'

Arthur tried not to focus on the doubt in her voice as he pulled himself over the railing. He helped Ariadne over, and they both stood there, gripping the barrier for support. Arthur slid his hand over to hold hers and felt her squeeze it in return.

'It'll be okay,' he assured her. 'We won't even feel anything.'

'I'm sure Eames is awake already, waiting for us,' she said with a smile.

Arthur nodded and leant forwards. The ground was so far away ... the few cars below looked like specks of dirt than big metal boxes; he couldn't even see the bodies of his companions, which he was intensely grateful for. He felt his pulse race at the thought of what they were about to do. He was right – they _wouldn't_ feel anything. Their hearts would probably fail before they hit the ground. _A heart attack. _In an odd way, the thought comforted him.

'See you up top,' he said, a little more firmly than he had intended.

Ariadne nodded. _We're finally going home._

He realised how sentimental it sounded, but quite frankly, he didn't care. He couldn't wait to wake up next to her – hopefully, he found himself thinking, the first of many times. He felt his cheeks start to burn at the idea, and was glad they were already red with the biting wind.

All thoughts left his mind the second they stepped off the edge.

The wind roared in their ears, whipped their clothes around them.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated only on the feel of her hand in his. Despite the overwhelming pull of gravity, he never let it go.


	55. Chapter 55

**55.**

Dominic Cobb sat in silence, alternately looking between his sleeping companions and out of the smashed rear window. He didn't trust Browning not to remember the licence plate of his limousine and send others after them, despite his own threats against the businessman. So far they had been fine; not a single black Sedan or automatic rifle in sight. But he knew – in this job, you could never be too sure ...

This time Saito had stayed in the next compartment, gun in hand and glancing over the broken divider at Cobb and his colleagues. They shared the odd worried look, neither wanting to voice what they were both thinking: _Will they ever wake up?_

It had already been three hours since they had gone under; Yusuf had spent the majority of the time driving aimlessly through the streets of L.A., trying to find a spot to park up. Three hours in Limbo – not just any dream – was a _long _time. Cobb knew from experience. He had been under with Mal for four hours real time during their half-century stint in the realm. Nobody knew how long it took for someone to drop into a coma through the effects of Limbo on their mind, but he sure as hell didn't want to find out. If any one of them didn't wake up ... well, Browning would have a little surprise coming his way. That Cobb vowed.

Cobb jumped when he felt Eames stirring next to him. Both he and Saito whipped their heads up to watch the Forger; at first he simply moved his limbs, as one would when dreaming normally. But then – Cobb could feel his heart racing – the man's eyes fluttered open, looking around the limo in bewildered silence. He sat up slowly in his seat and glanced at the needle in his wrist.

'Bloody hell,' Eames muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He stared up at Saito, and then Cobb. 'I'm back, aren't I?'

Cobb's face split into a wide grin. 'You certainly are.'

'Welcome home, Mr. Eames,' Saito said with a brief smile.

The Forger began to chuckle, seemingly from relief than amusement. He pulled the IV tube from his wrist and threw it into the PASIV case, letting his eyes roam over the others in the car. He glared down at Denley for a few moments, his satisfied smile at odds with the pure hatred in his look, before turning to the other two slumbering figures.

Cobb followed his example and watched Arthur and Ariadne. His pulse still had not settled – if anything, it had increased yet further as he gripped the spinning top in his pocket. _Come on guys,_ he urged. _If Eames is awake they can't be far behind. _ Could they?

'Did they follow straight behind you?' he asked the Forger without taking his eyes off the couple.

'I assume so. I was the first to jump. I don't know what the others did after that.'

Cobb nodded. They _must _have followed. Why would they have stayed behind? Unless ...

'What happened down there? You spent an awfully long time getting back out.'

A sad smile twisted the Forger's lips. 'We couldn't find her. For years we looked, until we finally came across a replica of Paris. The whole city, constructed perfectly. She had opened up a café near the Notre Dame and didn't know who we were when we showed up.'

Cobb frowned at the man, not wanting to voice his next thought. 'She lost her memory?'

Eames nodded slowly. 'She lost her totem and would have been wandering around for years by herself. Certain details stayed with her – like Paris, her red scarf. But most of it went. Poor bastard nearly got shot again by his creepy twin when he tried to convince her it wasn't real.'

Cobb's eyebrows shot up as he stared at the Forger, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing. He was about to question him further when a faint groan made him snap his head around.

He watched, tight-lipped as first the Architect, and then the Point Man began to rouse. He leant closer to them, his left hand hanging in midair as his thought of shaking them vanished from his mind.

Cobb felt a ridiculous urge to cheer when they finally opened their eyes. The three hours' wait had seemed so much longer, every minute creeping by – though, of course, it had been far worse for his three colleagues.

He wasn't surprised when Arthur immediately sought her, his eyes raking over the others in the car before settling on Ariadne. She was awake, too, and looking back at him, a dazed expression on her pale face.

Cobb watched in silence as she reached out a small hand to touch his bruised face, the cuts from his earlier fight in the bathroom still weeping slightly. She stroked his stubbled cheek, her fingers brushing over his swollen eye before moving up to his hairline. A small smile tugged at her lips at the sight of his gelled yet dishevelled hair – a private thought that only they were privy to, it seemed. Arthur returned the gesture as he enveloped her in a tight embrace, apparently oblivious to his other companions observing the intimate scene.

Cobb glanced out of the window beside him, feeling suddenly as though he were intruding on a private moment. He grinned at the streets as they ambled by. He knew Arthur wouldn't let her down. All of them, in fact. They were indebted to him, in a way none of them could ever repay – himself more than most. Not only had he helped restore the Extractor's former life to him, he had now saved all of their lives when it seemed they had no hope of emerging from the situation unscathed. He had made his own personal sacrifices to do so, and yet had gained so much more himself, it appeared. Cobb only hoped they could make a fist of it away from such painful memories – away from the dangers of Extraction. At least at first, while they found their feet with one another. He knew only too well the dangers of mixing his personal and business lives, and the last thing he wanted was his best friend to make the same mistake. Then again, Arthur always _had _been more sensible than him. Pragmatic – that was the word to describe him. Even now.

Cobb turned at the sound of laughter to his right. Eames now held Ariadne in what could only be described as a bear-hug, smothering the petite woman with an embrace tighter even than Arthur's. Cobb looked up at Arthur, who was watching him through still-puffy eyes. The Point Man nodded at him, his expression enough to convey his immense relief. Cobb reached out his hand to his friend, a gesture of thanks as well as congratulations. Arthur took it and pulled the Extractor into a hug of his own. The act surprised Cobb for a brief moment – public shows of affection were certainly _not _Arthur's forte. He beamed as he clapped the man on the back – perhaps their little Architect had changed the Point Man in more ways than one. They had been down there a hell of a long time, after all. It was only reasonable to assume that _some _transformation would have taken place. Limbo altered people, whether they liked it or not – it seemed for the better this time. But there was no bitterness – no resentment as he considered his own wife in the same situation. Cobb found he was overjoyed, and nothing more. They deserved some happiness after all they had been through – Arthur especially. He knew about his partner's tragic past, but had never let on about it. Arthur would tell him one day – when he was ready. Of that he was certain.

They broke apart after a few moments, neither one knowing quite what to say. Cobb decided it was unnecessary. There was a deep-seated understanding between the two men, fostered through years of working together, of trusting one another. A bond that could never be broken, not even in the direst of circumstances. They would simply battle on regardless, and hopefully emerge victorious at the end. They had done it so many times, after all.

'Welcome back everyone!'

The others looked towards the front of the limo, where Yusuf was glancing over his shoulder, a huge grin plastered on his bearded face.

'Watch where you're bloody going!' Eames called back, shaking his head. 'I swear, one of these days he's going to kill us. I don't know why you insist on using him as a getaway driver,' he added to Arthur.

'Oh, hush,' Ariadne reproached him. 'He's done a wonderful job so far.'

'Although the same can't be said of the limo itself,' Arthur remarked, taking in the smashed windows and various bullet holes that riddled the car's bodywork. 'Looks like we were lucky not to be hit.'

He looked up at Cobb as he draped his arm around Ariadne's shoulders. She leant against him, the movement seemingly instinctive now. Despite the concern in Arthur's dark eyes, Cobb couldn't help but smile.

'It's all right, we took care of it,' he assured his partner. 'Browning won't be bothering us anymore. I gather the same can be said of Denley?'

Arthur glanced at the man still asleep in the seat opposite Eames and gave a quick nod. 'He won't be bothering _anyone _anymore.'

Nobody said a word as the car finally pulled to a stop. It was dark outside, the only light coming from the odd streetlamp dotted around the area as they stepped out of the car and stretched their legs. They appeared to be in a cemetery, from what Cobb could make out. Hundreds of silhouetted gravestones dotted the landscape before him, stretching out as far as he could see in the gloom. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought. Eames let out a loud groan as he cricked his neck and extended his arms out in front of him.

'What now?' Yusuf asked as he joined the group.

'We ditch the limo,' Cobb said. 'We need to find alternate transportation from here. It's too risky using Browning's own car to travel around in.'

'What about _him_?' Eames gestured to the prone figure of Denley in the back seat. 'We could just leave him there, implicate Browning in the situation.'

Cobb shook his head. 'I already have that covered. We need him to toe the line. If he even _thinks _about pursuing us again I'll hang him out to dry in every news station in the West.'

He fingered the mobile phone in his left trouser pocket as he spoke, planning out his next course of action far in advance. He would get Browning back, one way or another – he would make him squirm for what he had put them through, but not before getting what he really wanted. He still had to make sure his own family was okay – whether Browning had actually taken them, or had been bluffing the entire time. And then there was Yusuf's daughter.

Yes, there were still lose ends to be tied before he could be satisfied the nightmare was really over. But they were nearly there ...

'So ... what then?' Eames said, breaking into Cobb's wandering thoughts. 'What do we do with him?'

Cobb looked between his companions before settling on Saito. 'If your men are up for it, I have a suggestion,' he said. The businessman nodded without hesitation. 'We need to get Denley back to Cobol. They need to know that _we _know they were involved in this. It'll be a direct warning not to pursue us again, just like Browning. Dump him right on their doorstep, as it were. It's up to them what they do with him from there.'

'My men shall take care of it immediately,' Saito agreed as he took out his phone and promptly dialled a number. 'Some of them stayed behind after the Inception, in case of any problems. They should be able to get here within minutes.'

'Good. Now we just need to decide what to do from here.'

'I think it would be wise to split up, at least for the time being,' Arthur suggested. 'Just in case.'

'What about our stuff back at the warehouse?' Ariadne asked next to him.

Cobb shook his head. 'We'll have to forget about it. The only thing of interest would be our passport details, but they're all false anyway. No-one will able to trace us through anything that we've left behind.'

Cobb thought he saw the Architect's face fall a little at his words, though he couldn't be sure in the dim light. He wondered what she could have left behind that didn't want to lose.

'Where do we go from here then?' Eames mused. 'I don't fancy trekking around in these clothes for too long. I need to change and get a good night's kip.'

'The airport's not too far from here,' Yusuf piped up. 'That's why I stopped. I saw it while driving around.'

'Did everyone pick up their cards and money from their cases back there?' They all nodded in response to Cobb's question. 'Then that settles it. We'll all decide where we want to go once we're at the airport. And this time, no contact for at least two weeks.'

At this last comment he looked directly at Arthur, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a slight smile at the sight of his friend's discomfort.

'Um ... what about me?' Ariadne asked, looking up at Cobb as she gripped Arthur's hand.

'You'll be going together, won't you?' Cobb replied with a frown. 'At least, that's what I assumed.'

'Oh,' was all the Architect managed to say, before: 'Yeah, that's ... fine. That's great. I just thought, when you said no contact ... '

'I meant between the rest of us,' Cobb said with a smile. 'I don't expect you to go off on your own again, Ariadne. Not after last time.'

She nodded her assent and breathed out a sigh – a relieved one, he guessed. Cobb glanced around at everyone before gesturing for them to set off. It was dark enough that they would be well-concealed until they reached the streets. It seemed things were finally working in their favour. _About damn time, _he thought as they trudged through the gloom.

The only sounds were the crunching of the grass – and gravel – under their feet and the distance rumble of traffic in the distance. As they neared the road the roar of cars could be heard, growing steadily louder, until they were finally on the pavement that led to the cemetery's entrance. They hailed the first taxi they came across and asked it to wait until a second drove by – Cobb, Arthur and Ariadne filed into one, whilst Eames, Saito and Yusuf took the other. Cobb instructed the driver to their destination, and off they set.

The journey took all of ten minutes, during which very little was said. Cobb did, however, ask Arthur what his plans were, more out of curiosity than concern.

'We're going to Vegas,' Arthur replied shortly. 'I have some business to take care of there. We'll grab a hotel for a couple of nights and try to get things sorted before moving on.'

Cobb nodded, choosing not to ask what his 'business' in Vegas could be. He decided he would go back to his own house to check the situation there and phone Miles on the way. If he answered he would know that Browning and Denley had been bluffing. If not ... well, he would have to cross that bridge when he came to it. First he wanted to make sure that everyone else got off okay. _Unlike last time, _he thought with a grimace. No, this time he would do things properly. He owed that much to them, at the very least.

Cobb paid for the taxi and tipped the driver once they had pulled up outside the airport. It seemed so long ago that he had last walked through those doors, full of hope, of optimism – the anticipation of finally seeing his family again. He dreaded to think what Arthur, Ariadne and Eames were thinking right then, how long it had been for _them _since they had done the same thing.

They wandered separately through the automatic doors, trying not to draw attention to themselves as a large group. The airport was still relatively busy considering the time of night; people queuing, dragging large suitcases around, sitting down for a bite to eat and a drink before heading off to Departures. Cobb watched as Arthur took Ariadne to the Greyhound ticket kiosk, and frowned when they both glanced at the nearby coffee counter, then quickly looked away. He decided it was probably best not to ask. Saito marched straight up to the airline ticket desk to buy a one-way to Japan, whilst Eames and Yusuf stood not too far away from Cobb.

'What are you guys thinking of doing?' he asked as he walked over to them.

'Not the faintest idea,' Eames replied with a shrug. 'I might hang around for a while, see some of the sights. But not around here, obviously. Just in case.'

Cobb nodded and turned to Yusuf. 'How about you?'

He caught the glance the Chemist gave his feet before answering. 'Well ... they still have my daughter, and ... I don't know. I'm not sure what to do ... '

Cobb considered his dilemma for a few moments. It was similar to his own, except worse – Yusuf _knew _his daughter had definitely been taken. At least there was some hope that his own family were still safe, that Denley had been lying just to get him to cooperate. He looked at the still-bruised man – his eyes were no longer swollen, thankfully, though still slightly black around the edges – and nodded.

'Stay with me,' he told him. 'We'll get her back, I promise.'

Yusuf looked up at him, momentarily surprised, then smiled and nodded. 'Thank you.'

Cobb looked up when he heard familiar footsteps behind him. He turned to find Arthur and Ariadne walking back over to them, tickets in hand. He noticed that Arthur still had his arm wrapped around the Architect, whether for protection or to keep her warm, Cobb couldn't say.

'Our coach leaves in half an hour so we're going to have to head off straight away,' the Point Man said, looking between the four men.

The others all nodded. Cobb took a step closer to them.

'Don't be strangers, you hear?' he said. 'I want to hear exactly what went on down there, if you feel up to sharing some time. You have my number,' he directed at Arthur. 'If I decide to change it I'll let you know. And ... I think I'll have to move home now, too. As soon as I've sorted it out you'll have to come and visit. I think James and Philippa will be more than thrilled to see you again. And Miles, too,' he added to Ariadne.

'Of course,' Arthur replied. 'We'll be round as soon as we've decided what we're going to do.'

Cobb didn't miss the fact that Ariadne appeared happy enough allowing Arthur to answer for the both of them, and wondered again just what had gone on in Limbo to make them suddenly so comfortable with each other. So content to lead their lives together, at least for the foreseeable future. He still didn't ask outright, knowing they would tell him when the time was right. _If_ it was ever right, that was.

'I guess this is goodbye for now then,' he said with a sad smile. 'I never got to say it last time.'

He held his hand out to Arthur, who gripped it firmly with his right and shook it a few times. Cobb turned to Ariadne, who stepped into the embrace he offered.

'Thank you, for all your help,' he whispered in her ear. 'And look after him, will you? He's not used to the sort of life you're planning. I think he'll need all the help he can get.' Ariadne flashed him a quick smile and a nod when he released her. 'I'll see you soon then.'

It was a statement, not a question; he knew this wasn't the last time they would all be together. They might never be there as a six-man team again – Saito would surely stay in Japan, and who could say as for Yusuf once he got his daughter back? – but the others ... they were more than simply colleagues, mere acquaintances. And that meant visiting each other from time to time as the inclination – and opportunity – arose.

Cobb watched as Arthur and Ariadne walked off towards the coach park, each one giving their teammates a quick wave before they disappeared through the doorway. Cobb caught sight of Ariadne as she twisted her head to look at them all one last time and held his hand up in farewell.

Yes, he would certainly be seeing more of them in the future. And he was already looking forward to it.

**A/N: Okay, what I thought would happen, did - there's going to be at least one more chapter added to the total I said the story would be (which is the next one, incidentally.) I'm not sure at the moment whether I'm going to write a couple more in addition to the final three I had planned, but we shall see what happens when I sit down at the PC again! For now, I hope you enjoyed this one and are looking forward to the next. :)**


	56. Chapter 56

**56.**

The coach journey took a little under six hours. Ariadne spent the majority of it sleeping, in spite of the induced three-hour slumber she had only recently woken from. They found two seats at the back of the vehicle and settled down for the long journey. Arthur stayed awake for most of it, trying not to focus on the numbness in his shoulder as Ariadne used it as a pillow. He had his arm wrapped around her – also deadened from being in one position for too long – and occasionally closed his eyes, though without ever dozing off. His brain was too alert, despite the mental exhaustion he felt, always on the lookout in case something unexpected should happen.

But for once, nothing did. Their journey passed smoothly, with only two stops (San Bernardino and Barstow in California) before moving on to Las Vegas. They got out at Barstow to stretch their legs and grab a bite to eat before the coach set off again.

He couldn't shut out his thoughts during the journey. There was nothing else to do but watch and wait and _think_. Every so often he would glance down at the petite woman huddled next to him and wonder just how things could have turned out this way. She had recovered remarkably well considering the length of time she had been down in Limbo with an almost completely new identity; it was as though she had picked up right where she had left off before going under in the first dream. Then again, he reasoned, so had Saito when Cobb and he had woken up on the plane – neither one had suffered any after-effects despite their temporary loss of memory in Limbo. Cobb had explained everything to him; how he had found Saito living a new life with his own projections as bodyguards; how it taken the effort of both men to persuade the other of what was _real_; how they had woken up as though from a normal dream – except, of course, that they still remembered what had taken place during those long years in their own subconscious. Perhaps Limbo didn't leave any lasting damage on the person if they were only under for a few hours 'real time'. Cavendish, however, was a different matter entirely. He had been in a Limbo-induced coma for a little over a year, and likely would _not_ recover so well from its effects. Arthur understood that the doctors had only chosen not to pull the life-support because his family was influential enough to get their own way – they had insisted on keeping it on, despite the low odds that he would ever wake up. A year was usually the limit for most doctors – after that it was highly unlikely that the patient would have any mind to speak of, even _should _they escape the coma.

Arthur shoved his hand into his pocket and gripped the red die nestled there. He shook his head and decided to just 'go with the flow', as Eames would say. There was no point in dwelling on issues that weren't a problem – yet, at least. They could deal with them as and when they reared their ugly heads. Until then, he would enjoy each new moment, as atypical as that was for him. He was determined to change, and for the better. As for Cavendish – it was out of his hands now. There was little – if anything – he could do for him. His conscience would never feel completely clear, but at least he had helped him in _some _way. It was better than nothing. He had to remind himself of that.

It was just after four in the morning when they eventually reached their destination. Arthur and Ariadne stepped off, thanking the driver as they passed, and looked around at the dazzling lights of the strip. It was still bustling with people – partygoers, gamblers, tourists out to see everything before heading back home again. _The perfect place to get lost in,_ Arthur thought. Nobody would find them here – if they were even searching. After what Cobb had done, Arthur would be surprised if they heard from either Browning or Cobol ever again.

'What now?' Ariadne asked as they walked away from the parked coach.

'We find somewhere to stay for the night,' Arthur replied. He felt her shiver beneath him and glanced down at her. 'Are you cold?'

'No,' she said, far too quickly. Arthur arched his eyebrows as another quiver rippled through her. 'Okay, maybe a little bit.'

Arthur had never considered himself particularly chivalrous – he had never had the opportunity more than anything – but he stopped and did the most clichéd he could think of – he took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her.

'Won't you be cold then?' Ariadne asked as she slipped her arms through the oversized garment.

Arthur shook his head. 'I never feel it. Which is why you won't often see me in a coat unless it's the middle of winter.'

'Lucky,' Ariadne grumbled. 'I wish I was like that. I feel the extremes too easily.'

'Probably not a good thing we're in the middle of the desert, then,' Arthur chuckled.

He caught the roll of her eyes as they strolled along the pavement, slowly enough not to be jostled by the crowds of people around them. He looked up at the familiar surroundings, trying not to remember the last time he had been here.

Ariadne suddenly stumbled beside him, reaching out her hand to grip his sleeve whilst raising the other to her eyes. Arthur swivelled to steady her, holding onto her shoulders as people skirted around them.

'Are you okay?' he asked, trying to look into her eyes as she rubbed them.

'Yeah, I'm ... fine,' she murmured. 'Just a bit dizzy, that's all.' She took a deep breath and shook her head slightly. 'There, it's passed. Must just be all the bright lights or something.'

She made to walk off, clearly signalling that she didn't want to discuss it further. Arthur frowned, desperate to find out what was wrong, but pursed his lips instead. _It might be nothing,_ he told himself. _She must be exhausted. A good sleep and some food is all she needs._ He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on her anyway and caught up to her in three long strides.

'So ... do you have somewhere in mind?' Ariadne asked after a few minutes' comfortable silence.

'Yes. I've been here before, I know a great hotel not too far away up the strip.'

Ariadne suddenly stopped dead; Arthur felt his arm slip from her shoulders as he took a moment to realise that she was no longer walking alongside him.

'What's wrong?' he asked, an urgency to his voice that he failed to suppress.

'What are we going to do about clothes and ... and toiletries? We can't go walking about like this for the next few days.'

Arthur couldn't help it; perhaps it was the look of horror on her face, the muted panic in her eyes at the thought of tramping around Vegas in the same clothes they had been wearing for the last twenty-four hours – whatever it was, he burst out laughing at the picture of her standing there facing him. She folded her arms across her chest, the sleeves of his jacket swamping her delicate arms, and glared at him.

'What's so funny?'

Arthur managed to tone the laughter down to a silent chuckle, a rumble that vibrated in his chest as he put his arm around her again and encouraged her to walk with him. 'I'm sorry. It's just – the look on your face was priceless. I wasn't expecting it.'

'It's a legitimate concern,' she protested. 'I'm sure you haven't gone without shaving so long in your entire life.'

'Actually, I have,' Arthur said. 'Once. When I was in college. I went through a bit of a rebellious phase and thought it would be cool to grow all my hair long.'

Ariadne stared up at him, clearly amused by the mental image his words had conjured. 'And how long did that last?'

'About a week,' Arthur conceded. 'I got annoyed and had it cut off after that. Never again,' he added, shaking his head at the memory.

He heard Ariadne snort beside him and graciously avoided reacting to it. He had to admit, the sight of him back then _was _rather comical. He much preferred his current appearance. Glancing down at her in his jacket, he had to confess that he liked _her _in his attire, too, despite the fact that it far too big for her slight frame. Images of her standing in nothing but one of his crumpled white shirts rose unbidden in his mind, and he shook his head to rid himself of them. _There'll be time for that,_ he scolded. _Plenty of time._

Before long Arthur was steering Ariadne off the main road and down a separate path. It was, in fact, a mini bridge; the huge famous fountains surged up to their right, lit up by hundreds – if not thousands – of tiny lights at their base. Ariadne gasped as she watched the water soar high into the air, playing out a mesmerising pattern before their eyes.

'Oh my God, we're not ... ' she muttered, transfixed momentarily by the sight in front of her. 'We're staying at the Bellagio?' Arthur smiled and guided her onwards without a word, his hand on the small of her back, gently encouraging her to keep on walking. 'But ... it's far too expensive! I've never stayed in anything above a three-star hotel ... '

'Well, you can afford to now,' Arthur reasoned. 'Besides, no-one said you were paying for it.'

Ariadne looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. 'You're not paying for both of us,' she insisted.

'You don't have a choice in the matter,' Arthur said matter-of-factly. 'I have a lot more in my account than you do. Anyway, it's a present, from me to you. A post-Inception congratulations, if you will.'

Ariadne shook her head in apparent disbelief. 'It's quite possibly the most extravagant gift I've ever been bought. Trust you.'

Arthur chuckled softly. 'Good. You better get used to it.'

Apparently she realised there was no point in arguing, for she fell silent and simply enjoyed the view on the way to the check-in desk. They were greeted by a young lady with short blonde hair and a wide, white-toothed smile.

'Good morning,' she beamed, overly-chirpy considering the time. 'How may I help you today?'

Arthur extricated his arm from around Ariadne's waist and pulled his wallet from his back trouser pocket. 'We'd like to make a reservation, if you have any rooms available.'

'Certainly, sir,' the woman said, glancing down at her computer screen. 'What type of room would you like?'

'The best you have,' he replied without hesitation. 'Preferably one overlooking the front of the hotel.'

The woman nodded and tapped away at her keyboard. 'Would that be one or two rooms?' she asked, looking between the two of them.

Arthur hesitated long enough for Ariadne to answer instead. 'One, please.'

He caught her quick glance up at him and made no protest. He was going to go with two, to give her some space to herself should she want it, but she clearly had other ideas. The receptionist clicked away for a few moments before raising her head to look at them again.

'We have the Salone Suite available, if you would like that? I'm afraid our other more luxurious suites are currently occupied.'

'Yes, thank you, that would be perfect,' Arthur said as he handed her his credit card.

The woman looked around at the floor around their feet as Arthur keyed in his PIN. 'Do you have any luggage with you at all?'

They both shook their heads. Arthur thought he caught the hint of a smile on the woman's lips as she studied them both, but it was gone before he could be sure.

'Here's your room key, sir, which also activates the elevator for floors twenty-nine to thirty-six,' she said, handing him the small object. 'Would you like to participate in our private registration in the Executive Suite Lounge first?' Arthur shook his head, having done it once before and finding it rather pretentious for his liking. 'Very well, sir. Enjoy your stay. If you would like to extend it beyond tomorrow night, please don't hesitate to ring down and inform us.'

Arthur nodded his head in thanks and guided Ariadne to the back of the lobby where the elevators were located. He paused next to the 'up' button as an image pierced his exhausted mind – the last time they had used a lift to travel upwards ...

He blinked several times to rid himself of the mental picture and watched as Ariadne pressed the button instead, clicking it with one hand as she took hold of his with the other. They waited until the light above the elevator pinged and the doors slid open, before stepping inside and pushing the key for the 29th floor. They ascended in silence; Arthur felt his heart start to race as they neared the top, anticipating ... well, just about everything – the room, Ariadne's reaction to it, a good night's sleep.

The future that lay ahead for him. Spending it with the beautiful woman standing next to him, clasping his hand tightly as though afraid to ever let it go.

The ascent was relatively quick; they were soon stepping back out onto plush carpet, into bright lights that illuminated the few feet it took to reach the door of their suite. Arthur slipped the old-fashioned key into the lock and turned it until he heard the resounding _click._ Taking one deep breath in, he pushed the double doors open and waited.

Her reaction didn't disappoint.

'Oh ... my ... God ... ' she breathed, taking a few tentative steps into the huge room.

It was like walking into an apartment – and a very lushly decorated one, at that. The foyer was decorated with marble, Arthur's dress shoes clapping on it as he followed Ariadne in and closed the doors. The room was awash with warm beiges and browns, from the carpet to the walls. The luxurious King-size bed – that Arthur purposefully averted his eyes from – sat mere feet away from the three-seater couch and matching ottoman. A huge 42-inch high-definition television was perched on the dresser opposite; nearby another door opened onto a marble-fitted bathroom, complete with whirlpool tub and separate shower.

'Oh my God,' Ariadne muttered again as she stood in the doorway of the opulent bathroom. 'Arthur this is ... this is so much better than I could have imagined.'

'I'm sure you could create something much more beautiful if you put your mind to it,' he replied with a shrug.

She accepted the compliment without comment, though Arthur caught the satisfied smile that lit up her face as she turned to look out of the window. He walked over to join her, looking over her shoulder at the fantastic vista beyond. The multicoloured lights of the strip bled into the pitch black of the night above, filling their vision with so many colours it was difficult to distinguish them all. Their eyes were drawn to the illuminated structure directly opposite, towering above the surging fountains that epitomised the richness of the Bellagio.

'It's the Eiffel Tower,' Ariadne whispered, almost too quietly for Arthur to hear.

He said nothing; only looked out of the window with her, taking in the replica of the famous Parisian landmark with mixed feelings. Perhaps it was too soon. Perhaps he should have chosen another hotel instead.

His doubts were confirmed when he felt Ariadne tremble in front of him, racked by silent sobs. He quickly turned her away from the window and pulled her into a tight embrace. She wept into his shirt, her hands crushed up against his chest.

'I'm sorry,' he murmured. 'It was stupid of me. I shouldn't have chosen this one.'

Ariadne shook her head and tried to stem her crying. 'No, it's ... not that,' she said, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. 'It's beautiful. I just ... '

Arthur didn't get to hear the rest of her sentence. He simply waited until her sobs subsided and she pulled away from him – enough to look up into his face, her eyes now red and slightly puffy.

'Sorry, I bet I seem really ungrateful now,' she muttered.

Arthur crooked a smile at her and ran his thumb across her cheeks, wiping away the tears that still lingered there. 'Not at all. It was presumptuous of me to think that you would be able to move on so quickly.'

'No, it's not that – really, it's not,' she insisted, shaking her head again. She sighed and walked over the bed, perching herself on the edge of it. 'I don't _want _to forget, Arthur. It may not have been real down there in Limbo, but like it or not, it's a part of me now. I can't just pretend it never happened. I _won't_.'

Arthur followed her example and sat down on the bed next to her. 'I feel the same way,' he said quietly. 'I had a long time to think down there, while we were looking for you. I came to some very definite conclusions about the type of life I wanted to live once I – once _we _– got out. And I stand by them.' He looked into her dark eyes, hesitating before he continued with his pseudo-confession. 'I ... don't want to be alone anymore, Ari. I'm fed up with my old life, living out of suitcases, moving from one hotel to the next with nothing but work in between. The only friend I've had over the past five years has been Dom, and I ... just want to be with someone else for a change.'

Ariadne slid her hand over to his and clutched it beneath her own – the small gesture they seemed to be getting used to giving one another. She said nothing, only looked up at him with those huge, hones eyes of hers – telling him that everything was going to be okay, that she was there for him. It was strange, really, when he thought about it; that _she _should be the one to comfort _him _after what she had just been through. Then again, perhaps the experience hadn't been so traumatic for her – she had seemed perfectly happy in her dream-Paris with her café near the Notre Dame, after all. The hardest part was accepting it wasn't actually real – after that the rest appeared to come naturally. She had fallen back into her old life just like the others; just like _he _had. Maybe things were going to be a little easier than he had anticipated.

They sat there for a few minutes in silence, conveying everything they couldn't say to one another through simple looks, before Ariadne shuffled further up onto the bed and held out her hand to him. Arthur stared at it, then glanced over at the large couch not too far away.

'Don't even think about it,' she warned, wiggling her fingers at him. 'Come on.' Still he hesitated, _wanting _to move but unable to escape the feeling that things were moving rather quickly now, considering – 'Please? I just ... I'd rather not be alone.'

How could he refuse when she was practically begging him to join her? Arthur let out a long breath and took hold of her hand, allowing her to pull him up onto the large bed. He marvelled at how bold she was being, how forward – how deeply she seemed to trust him despite the years spent in Limbo forgetting about him. How she could possibly feel the same as he did for her, when he had had _years _to mull it over. Perhaps with the rush of memories had come her own emotions, too, old feelings exploding into consciousness. Perhaps she had always felt this way about him and he just hadn't realised; had been too wrapped up in his _duties _and _responsibilities _to see what was right in front of him.

He groaned inwardly and told himself to just _stop thinking_; to _stop_ analysing every little detail and thought. It was going to be difficult breaking a habit of a lifetime, but he was certain he could do it. Or at least tone it down. He _had _to, if he was to stop himself from going insane.

Ariadne lay down on one side, her head nestled into the plush pillow, and waited for him to do the same. She looked at him for a long time before flashing him a quick, warm smile.

'Goodnight, Arthur,' she said, before turning over to face the opposite direction.

Arthur watched her curl into a ball, her legs tucked up into her body as she tried to get comfortable. Once she had stopped fidgeting, he reached out for the remote on his bedside table and switched off all the lights in the room. He could feel his hand shaking slightly as he shuffled closer to her and draped his right arm across her torso, his face buried in her soft hair.

'Goodnight,' he whispered, pressing his lips gently to the back of her head.

They lay there, together, fully-clothed and happier than either had been in a long time. Arthur closed his eyes, allowing the gentle rhythm of her breathing to lull him to sleep.

That night, for the first time in five years, he slept soundly – and dreamt, of the woman lying next to him, and the promise of a new life she offered.

**A/N: Okay, a quick word - this is the chapter that I never intended to actually write when I had the final ones planned in my mind. It just ... sort of came out when I sat down at the PC, almost begging to be written! So if it seems a bit strange, that's probably why. :P Yes, there are a LOT of Arthur's thoughts in this one concerning Ariadne and Limbo - things he hadn't had a chance to ponder before. Now he's back in reality with her, he doesn't know how to deal with things, poor guy! Will he ever just be able to accept that he's got a good thing going here? We shall see. ;)**

**RIGHT - there should be 3 more after this, as I see it. Though again, a couple more may come out when I get to them (especially after writing this one), so who knows! It's good to see that people would actually like that, anyway. :)**


	57. Chapter 57

**57.**

Peter Browning sat in Robert's limousine, alternately glancing between his godson and out of the tinted window. He was _not _in a good mood. Not only had he been forced to phone Robert late at night and explain what he was doing wandering the streets of L.A. at that time – he lied, of course – but now he also had to wait and watch as his whole life was torn out from beneath his feet. He had been counting on Robert trying to follow in his father's footsteps; being there to guide him, mould the business in his own image, to make it even more successful. And now, because of that ragtag band of thieves, it was all going to come crashing down around his ears.

And there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

'Are you all right, Uncle Peter?' Browning looked up at his godson and frowned. 'You look a little put-out today.'

'I'm fine,' Browning replied, a little more gruffly than he had intended. 'I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night.'

'Mm,' Robert murmured, clearly unconvinced. 'I know it's a big day, for all of us. Nerves are inevitable in such a situation.'

'I'm not nervous.'

_I'm fucking furious,_ he wanted to add, but kept _that _particular thought to himself. If only that stupid bastard Denley hadn't screwed everything up. It would all be different right now ...

Before long the limousine had pulled up alongside the Fischer/Morrow headquarters in Los Angeles. A black-suited bodyguard stepped forwards and opened the door for them. Browning slid out after his godson and followed him up the crowded path and into the tall office building. Journalists jostled against the makeshift barriers, each of them shouting various questions, snapping photographs of the famous entrepreneurs, and generally making a loud racket. Browning toned them out, concentrating only on the man in front of him. Everything else was irrelevant now.

They made their way to the head of the crowd inside, seating themselves at the long table at the front of the lobby. More reporters were packed inside; either sitting on the chairs set out for them or crammed along the walls. Browning made a quick sweep of the scene before him as he poured himself a glass of water and readied himself for the media onslaught that was to come.

'Thank you all for coming here today,' Robert began, his voice amplified by the small microphone on the desk in front of him. 'I'm sure you all know what this is about, though perhaps not the specifics.'

Everyone fell silent. Apparently nobody _did _know the specifics, or they would surely have blabbed to the entire room by now. It seemed Robert had done a good job keeping his decision under wraps – the thought did nothing to comfort Peter Browning in the chair next to him.

'As you will all have read, my father, Maurice Fischer, passed away ten days ago. As the sole heir to the business he painstakingly built up over the years, I have inherited the whole of the Fischer/Morrow empire.'

'What do you intend to do now that your father's no longer around?' one reporter shouted out – a bespectacled, dark-haired man standing near the back of the mob.

Browning couldn't help the derisive snort that escaped, though thankfully Robert appeared too preoccupied with his speech and the crowd of journalists in the room to hear it.

'Please, if you would allow me to finish, I will answer any questions you may have afterwards,' Robert said diplomatically, holding out his hands for quiet. 'As I said, I now have sole control over the Fischer/Morrow business. After thinking about it long and hard for the past week' – _More like one day, _Browning thought bitterly. _After a damn stupid dream. _– 'I have come to the decision that it would be in my – and the company's – best interests to break the empire apart.'

A chorus of murmurs broke out among the throng of reporters; some began to scribble furiously in their notepads, whilst others leant forwards with their voice recorders, desperate not to miss a single word of Robert's speech.

Robert waited for the mutterings to cease before he continued. 'I know this may come as a shock considering how successful my father's business was. I plan to dissolve the empire into separate, smaller companies. I do _not_ intend to follow in my father's footsteps, but instead mean to build something for myself out of the components of his business.' He paused and took a sip of his water. 'Now, if anyone has any questions?'

A flurry of hands shot into the air. Browning wondered just how many of them were thinking the same thing.

'Yes?' Robert said, gesturing to a blonde lady at the front of the crowd.

'Mr. Fischer, do you think your father would approve of your decision, considering how long it took him to build his empire up from scratch?'

Browning glanced at his godson. He felt a stab of fury as the man smiled down at the lady; his eyes seemed to glaze over for the briefest of seconds, before he focused again on the reporter.

'Yes, I believe he would,' he replied. 'I think he would want me to strike out on my own, to be my own man instead of living in his shadow for the rest of my life. My father was a very generous man at heart. He would not be disappointed in my decision if he truly believed it was the best thing for me to do, as an individual and as his son.'

Again everyone scrawled down his words; some were standing towards the back of the group, whispering into their mobile phones. _No doubt to be the first to the scoop, _Browning thought sourly. Oh, they would have a field day with _this _one tomorrow, that was for sure. Front page of every newspaper; breaking news on every station throughout America, if not the world. How he looked forward to the evening news ...

Another journalist called out a question, but Browning was distracted by a vibration in his jacket pocket to hear it. He pulled his phone out and looked down at the caller I.D.: _Unknown_. He frowned, wondering who on earth could have his number without him knowing about it, and stood up. He held up an apologetic hand to Robert and shuffled off into the corner of the room.

'Hello?' he answered, less formally than usual, for so many reasons.

'I'm afraid you're not doing a very good job of supporting your godson up there,' the voice replied. 'Really, you should at least _try _to look happy for him.'

Browning froze, staring at the wall in front of him. He _knew_ that voice ...

'Come on, Mr. Browning. You can't have forgotten me already?'

Browning felt his stomach knot as he placed the smooth accents of the man to a face – that horribly smug, self-righteous face. He began frantically scanning the crowd of journalists, looking for someone he recognised. Was he here, in the same room? Or was he watching on one of the numerous news channels that had turned up to hear Robert's momentous decision?

'What do you want?' he growled into the receiver, clutching the phone to his ear. 'Haven't you done enough damage already?'

'Now, there's no need to get angry,' the man replied, clearly amused. 'I just need a favour, that's all. Well, I say _favour_ – really it's a polite request.'

'What?'

By this time Browning didn't care that he was being completely uncivil. He had good reason to. This man was responsible for ruining his entire life's work, after all. Discourteous was the least he should expect.

'I want you to tell me where your men are holding my colleague's daughter. Now, I already know you and Denley were bluffing about _my_ family – a good one to use, but ultimately pointless, since it was very easy to discover. So that just leaves one last loose end.'

'And if I refuse?' Browning spat, knowing all too well what the response would be; but he couldn't help it.

'You know very well what I will do should you not cooperate, Mr. Browning,' the man said coolly. 'There must be reporters here representing – ooh, at least a hundred different papers and stations. I'm sure they would _love _to hear about your 'wild night out'. Calling your godson that late at night; having your limousine burnt out by hooligans; doing who-knows-what to that poor anonymous man. What will the press say to that, in light of Robert Fischer's declaration?'

'You arrogant son-of-a-bitch. You wouldn't _dare _...'

The man began to chuckle, the sound biting at Browning's throbbing ears. 'I think we've already established the lengths I will go to, to get what I want. I wouldn't push me, if I were you.' A pause, long enough for Browning to realise that he had no other alternative. 'So – do we have a deal?'

Browning gritted his teeth and clenched his left hand in his trouser pocket. What he wouldn't give to see this man's bullet-ridden corpse at his feet ...

'I don't exactly have a choice in the matter,' he muttered, breathing out a long, angry sigh. 'Fine. She's being kept in a hotel around the corner to the warehouse, down by the beach. Room 15.'

'Have your men leave her in the lobby. _Alone._ I've given copies of that picture to each of my colleagues. If anything happens to me – or her – and my friend doesn't get his daughter back by five o'clock this evening, they know to send it to every news station on the West coast. So don't try anything stupid. It really isn't worth it.'

_Easy for you to say, you smug bastard. _Browning looked at the mob of reporters again, sweeping his gaze over their heads. He wanted to see him, just once, before he walked off and left him with the shattered remains of his once-comfortable life.

'Oh, and one more thing,' the man said. 'Don't even think of trying to trace me through this call. It's a disposable cell, and I'm wearing gloves.' Browning's face fell; the thought _had _occurred to him, as a last resort. 'What, did you expect me to be so careless? We're professionals, Mr. Browning. Which is more than can be said for you. Enjoy your miserable life, my friend. You deserve it.'

With that, the line went dead. Browning glared down at his phone for a few moments before lifting his eyes to the crowd one last time. His heart was pounding in his chest, his hands shaking with the anger that was boiling up inside of him. He narrowed his eyes – and caught a glimpse of a crop of dark-blonde hair slipping through the crowd.

He took an involuntary step forwards, but it was too late. He was gone – if he had even been there in the first place. Browning let out a frustrated sigh and turned to look at his godson. Robert kept glancing at him in between answering the reporters' numerous and varied questions, a curious expression on his thin face. Browning shook his head and resumed his seat at the table, trying not to dwell on the last conversation he would ever have with Dominic Cobb; on the very real fact that he and his band of thieves had all but ended his career, and consequently his life. He had nothing left to do but retire graciously and slip into the background with his family. _What a life ..._

Little did he know that, in various locations, a Point Man, an Architect, a Forger, a Chemist, and a very amused Japanese businessman were watching the unfolding of events on assorted television screens, congratulating themselves on a job well done.

**A/N: Well now, we couldn't let poor Yusuf down after all that's happened, could we? I'll bet some of you thought I'd forgotten about his daughter what with everything that was going on. ;) This ties up everything with Fischer and Browning, at least.**

**One more chapter down then! And ... well, who knows how many to come. Two as it stands, but ... you know the rest. We'll see. 'Night for now all, and see you soon for the next instalment!**


	58. Chapter 58

**58.**

Ariadne opened her eyes to relative darkness. She sat up in the bed and looked around, wondering what the time was. Surely it was not still night-time? She felt as though she had slept for hours – perhaps even days. With everything that had gone on, she wouldn't be surprised to learn that she had.

The first thing she noticed upon switching her bedside light on was that the duvet had been pulled up around her, seemingly tucked carefully around her while she had been sleeping. She could have sworn that she had fallen asleep on _top _of the blankets, and – yes, fully-clothed. She felt herself smile as she recalled the previous evening – or rather, early morning. Who would have thought, mere weeks ago, that she would be curled up on a bed with their level-headed Point Man?

She glanced down at the bed beside her – and felt her heart skip a beat when she found it empty. She looked around the large room for a sign of his presence. _Any _sign.

But there was none.

He was gone.

She was alone.

Ariadne brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on top. Had he abandoned her? No, he wouldn't do that. Not after all he had said to her before they had lain down on the bed together.

She looked around again, carefully scanning every surface. There had to be _something _to prove that he had been there with her. She grabbed her phone from her pocket and looked for a message – nothing. He hadn't even sent her a text to say where he was. She let out a frustrated sigh and tried again.

That was when she spotted it – the small white envelope propped against his own bedside light, her name scrawled in neat letters on the front, almost like calligraphy. She scrambled over the King-size bed and snatched it up, tearing it open without a second thought.

_Ari, _(she smiled at the seeming ease with which he now used her pet name)

_Please don't panic when you wake up and find me gone. I decided to go out and grab us some necessities whilst you slept. I would have woken you but you looked so peaceful, and I'm sure you need the rest._

_I'll be back soon._

_Yours,_

_Arthur._

She let out a long breath and read the letter over again, just to be sure. _Stupid, _she scolded herself. _Of course he wouldn't just up and leave like that._ Arthur was nothing if not a man of his word. He had promised to look after her, and he would – she knew that. She just had to get used to the idea that he was no longer simply a colleague, a teammate that she would only see during working hours.

It was strange how easily she had accepted this new tangent in her life. She had had a brief moment of confusion when she had first woken up in the limousine and seen his face – his bruised, slightly-bloody face. She had almost forgotten how handsome he was – no, she reminded herself, she _had _forgotten how handsome he was. All those years in Limbo, living out an entirely different life, never fully understanding what she had once had. And lost.

Until he came along. Something had ached within her, deep inside – something she couldn't quite put her finger on. The gentle prompts, the searing images in her mind – everything had come crashing back down, flooding her with the memories she hadn't even remembered existed. The long weeks spent dreaming with him, training for the Inception; those easy conversations he would only indulge in within the dreamscape. And then more recently – the overwhelming anger she had felt when she had slammed the door on him in her hotel room; his stubborn refusal to acknowledge _that _moment they had shared; his promise – that no harm would come to her; the intense longing she had felt when he had _almost _touched her, minutes before walking out to confront Denley; the disappointment when he hadn't. And then, worst of all – most powerful, most persistent – the image of his pale face, his dark eyes staring down at her, filled with confusion, grief, disappointment ... every emotion she could think of, as she had lain on the hard ground, bleeding to death ...

She closed her eyes against the memories, feeling the tears well up in them, stinging the backs of her sockets. There was no point dwelling on them now. It was over. They were free – and _together_. That was all that mattered. Who cared if it was too soon to be dashing off to Vegas with him? Who cared if her emotions were still playing havoc with her system; that they had hit her like a figurative tidal wave along with the memories? She knew how she felt about him. It had been gradual at first, but now ... there was no doubt. She _wanted _to be with him, to discover more about the ambiguous Point Man with every day they spent together.

This, right here, waiting for him to come back from his shopping trip, falling asleep on the same bed – it felt good.

It felt _right_.

She had not been so comfortable with one person since ... well, since leaving her parents back in Toronto three years ago, weeks after announcing her desire to study Architecture in Paris. She felt a sudden pang as she realised she had not spoken to them since taking on the job with Cobb and the team. But there was time for that. She would get around to it soon enough. For now, she would simply enjoy each moment, take every day as it came. _Carpe diem,_ she thought, just like her father had always told her. _Seize the day. _She might never get another opportunity to convince him that they could have a good thing going; that they _could_ make it work, one way or another.

With that idea firmly in mind, she jumped out of the bed and hurried into the opulent bathroom, still stunned by its crafted beauty, the sheer size of it. She wondered briefly whether it was bigger than her bedroom back in her rented apartment in Paris, and quickly decided that it was. _Then again, we _are _in one of the most expensive hotel suites in Vegas. _ She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face as she reminded herself of that fact. _Trust Arthur._ Eames had been right – he _was _a closet romantic. Hand-written letters instead of text messages; fits of gallantry when he had hesitated to share the same bed as her. Who would have guessed? He came across as so cold, distant even to his own colleagues. But once he showed a glimpse of the man beneath the suits and slicked-back hair, behind the details and research – his complexity was breathtaking. And there was still so much more she had to learn about him.

Ariadne smiled again as she stripped off her clothes and jumped into the enormous walk-in shower.

She had never been one to back down from a challenge. And this was one she would most certainly relish.

**A/N: So, a brief chapter looking at how Ariadne feels after all that's happened - mostly, of course, regarding her decision to stay with Arthur. Though really, was it ever in any doubt? ;)**

**I'm going to stop saying how many chapters there will be, as this one wasn't intended, either. Because of chapter 56 I think I'll have to extend the story slightly (not too much as I really need to get it finished, sadly, before I have no time to do so), but that shouldn't be a problem. :P I'll try to have the next one up tomorrow night. This would have been up sooner had FF not been playing up on me! Never mind. I shall gallop off to bed and leave you all with Ariadne's thoughts - and perhaps wondering how this will all end? Ah, the ultimate question ...**


	59. Chapter 59

**59.**

Ariadne spent an inordinate length of time in the shower; perhaps longer than she had ever been before, and that included the night she had broken up with her only semi-long-term boyfriend Matt, back in her second year at college. She allowed to herself to get lost under the hot stream of water, immersing herself in her thoughts as she sang along to Edith Piaf. Because, of course, the only time she sang aloud was in the shower or with her music blaring on the stereo – that way she didn't have to hear her own voice quite so loudly. She was butchering the wonderful Ms. Piaf's song, she knew, but that didn't stop her. It was stuck firmly in her mind now, and the only way to get rid of it was to keep singing until she tired of the tune. If she ever did.

Forty-five minutes later – or it could have been nearer a whole hour, she wasn't entirely sure – once her skin had turned prune-like and reminded her too much of how she had appeared in Limbo, she hopped out. She almost – _almost _– squealed with delight when she found that the hotel stocked toothbrushes for their guests and whipped one out of the marble holder. Once satisfied that her teeth were pearly-white and as clean as they would get, she fastened one towel around her torso and another around her head, and wandered back into the bedroom-cum-living room area, still humming Edith Piaf's famous song.

'You've not got a bad voice, you know. You should sing more often.'

Ariadne jumped so violently the towel on her head wobbled and threatened to topple off. She whirled around to find Arthur leaning against the wall next to the bathroom doorway, arms folded, one eyebrow raised, and an infuriating smirk pulling one side of his mouth up.

'Arthur!' she cried, clutching the towel around her torso tighter to her with one hand whilst steadying the one on her head with the other. 'What – when did you get back?'

'About ten minutes ago,' he replied, his mouth the only part of him that moved as he gazed down at her.

Ariadne didn't miss the quick once-over his eyes gave her as she stood there, blushing furiously and thinking of some way to hurry back into the bathroom without appearing rude. She gave a small cough and stared at a point on the wall above his right shoulder.

'It's okay, you can go and get changed before we continue the conversation, if you like,' Arthur said, saving her the trouble of trying to think of a response. She sensed he was staving off a full-blown grin; the notion did nothing to ease her embarrassment. 'There's some stuff on the bed for you to try on. See if you like them.'

Ariadne nodded and swiftly took up the offer, grabbing the various bags from the newly-made bed and juggling them in her arms as she marched back into the bathroom. She couldn't help but smile when she pulled out a pair of jeans – that really _were _tight-fitting; she tried to ignore the implications of _that _particular observation – a thin, beige cashmere jumper, a pair of red Converse, and, to top it off, the most beautiful crimson silk scarf streaked with gold filament. She completed the look by daubing some Anaïs Anaïs – her mother's influence, a preference she had still not been able to shake – on her wrists and neck and blasting her hair with the conveniently-placed hairdryer next to the sink. After another rummage through the various paper bags – and finding more than enough scarves, tops and pairs of jeans to last her an entire week – she opened the door and wandered back into the main suite. Arthur was now sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees as he studied the television opposite.

'How on earth did you manage to pick out just about everything _I _would?' she asked as she strolled over and dropped onto the seat next to him. 'Even down to the sizes of the tops and pants.'

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at her and smiled – that self-satisfied, yet oddly charming smirk of his. 'I have a good eye for detail.'

Ariadne rolled her eyes and groaned. _Of course, what else?_ Who else would be able to sum up someone just by _looking _at them?

'But you even got the perfume right. It's the _exact _one I usually wear.'

'I know,' he replied. She thought she saw him inhale as he nodded. 'I noticed back at the warehouse, when you came out of the bathroom after we first got our cases back.'

She decided not to ask him just _how _he knew the precise brand of perfume simply by smelling it, and instead began to fiddle with the scarf at her neck. It was the softest, smoothest one she had ever owned – and likely the most expensive, too.

'Do you like it?' he asked, nodding at the garment.

'It's beautiful. Probably the nicest one I've ever had. And the others, too. They must have cost a fortune.'

Arthur shook his head at her and sighed. 'I told you not to worry about the cost. It's not important.'

'But I don't _want _you to pay for everything, Arthur. I'm quite capable of doing it myself, especially now.'

She grimaced; that had sounded terribly ungrateful, she knew. But she had been independent now for the better part of three years, and she was uncomfortable with the idea of allowing someone else – particularly a guy, though she was no ultra-feminist, by any means – to pay her way for everything. She appreciated the sentiment – she really did – but still could not shake the feeling that it was ... somehow wrong.

'I don't doubt that you are,' he replied, sitting up straight in his chair as he turned his full attention on her. 'And I never said that I would pay for _everything_. I certainly won't ask to be reimbursed – it was my idea, after all – but I also won't stop you should you prefer it that way.' He paused, seeming to consider something before continuing. 'I guess I'm just a bit old-fashioned,' he added with a smile.

Ariadne took in his attire – a more casual look with rolled-up sleeves and no waistcoat, but still much smarter than any guy she had previously dated – and couldn't help but agree with his assessment. Even the law student she had dated back in her first year wasn't as stylish as Arthur. Unlike many men she had looked over down the years, his suits seemed to really _fit_, as though they were tailor-made especially for him. _Knowing Arthur, they probably are,_ she mused. They hugged him in all the right places – and all the wrong places, too, she found herself adding as he stood up to grab something from one of his own bags, affording her the perfect view of the back of his snug trousers. She looked away from him then, pretending to concentrate on the T.V. screen instead. She told herself it really _wasn't _the time to be having such thoughts. But then again, why not? There was nothing stopping her. No pressing worries that needed attending to. In actual fact, it was probably the _perfect _time to be appraising him, and considering other aspects to their budding relationship. They were both adults, after all.

_Ugh, would you listen to yourself?_ she thought, fighting the urge to roll her eyes again. _Trying to justify your reasons for perving over him. Way to go, Ari. Very cool._

She decided to stop herself there, before she descended into a mental torrent of abuse against herself. She was sure the expression of disapproval on her face would only attract his attention, and that was the last thing she wanted right then. To distract herself, she snatched up the T.V. remote from the coffee table and began to flick through the channels without really paying any heed to what was on.

'Wait, go back,' Arthur said suddenly, coming to stand next to the couch. 'Keep going ... keep going ... yes, there.'

Ariadne stared at the screen, this time taking in the picture presented to her. She gasped when she realised that she actually recognised the people on the monitor.

'_I plan to dissolve the empire into separate, smaller companies. I do _not_ intend to follow in my father's footsteps, but instead mean to build something for myself out of the components of his business.'_

Arthur sat down slowly, his eyes never leaving the screen as Robert Fischer continued his speech, offering the reporters the chance to ask their questions. Ariadne could hardly believe it – she had almost forgotten that Fischer had still to make his announcement. The result of those two months of hard work, planning and then executing the Inception. It had only now come to fruition; had only now been fully realised.

The heir to the Fischer/Morrow empire maintained his exchange with the journalists in the room, but what interested Ariadne even more than his momentous declaration was the occasional glimpses the camera afforded of someone else entirely – Peter Browning, his godfather. He appeared to be having a heated conversation on his mobile phone, huddled in the corner of the room away from the press conference. Every so often he would glance up and look at the crowd of people, almost as though he were searching for someone.

It was as he hung up and the camera panned away that she saw it – the familiar crop of dark-blonde hair, the black jacket of a crisp new suit.

'Oh my God,' she breathed, leaning closer to the screen, although he was long out of sight. 'Was that ... _Cobb_?'

She glanced up at Arthur to find him staring at the television, too, his eyes narrowed as he continued to watch the unfolding of events. 'I think it was,' he replied. 'It certainly seemed like him.'

'But ... why? Why would he risk going near Browning ever again? Not to mention Robert Fischer.'

Of all the things Ariadne was expecting Arthur to do right then, smiling was not one of them. She frowned as the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

'Am I missing something here?' she asked, looking between the Point Man and the television.

'If I'm not mistaken, Dom just found a way to get Yusuf's daughter back. And his own family, if Browning ever had them.'

'And how do you figure that?'

Arthur turned towards her, his satisfaction still very much evident on his pale face. 'Don't you see? He's in a room full of journalists; every news station and paper on the West coast, I would imagine. He sent me a message this morning that I didn't really understand, along with a photo of Browning sitting next to the unconscious body of Denley.' Ariadne felt herself tense at the name, but forced herself to ignore it; if Arthur noticed, he graciously avoided showing it. 'He told me to send it to those same reporters should I not hear from him by five o'clock tonight. It makes sense now. He's blackmailed Browning, coerced him into giving him what he wants, otherwise he'd expose him to the entire media right in front of his godson.'

Ariadne took a few moments to work through what he was saying in her mind. It _did _make sense, she had to admit. And she couldn't say she was too surprised at Cobb revealing such a ruthless streak – it seemed they all had one when necessary. They _were_ thieves, after all, even if not in the normal sense of the word. Their morals were questionable at best – and yet, she felt completely at ease in their company. Arthur and Cobb, even Eames and Yusuf – they were more interested in the creativity of it all, the challenge the job presented. It was a chance to prove their skills, to expand their minds and capabilities beyond anything they could ever achieve in reality. And for that, she couldn't fault them. She had been lured in by it, too. There was no escaping _that _fact.

'I suppose that settles things, then,' she said. 'All the loose ends are tied. It's ... really over, isn't it?'

Only a week ago – when she had been thinking the very same thing upon leaving the airport, watching him disappear from her view – she would have been distraught at the idea. But now, with him sitting mere inches from her on the most expensive couch she had ever laid eyes on, with her future happily unplanned and open to suggestions, she knew that it wasn't strictly true. It was really only the beginning – of her new life, post-Inception, with a whole new slant on the world around her, on what was possible if she really set her mind to it. And best of all – of her new life with the immaculately-dressed man next to her. Sure, she wasn't imagining wedding bells or the pitter-patter of tiny feet just yet – she never planned very far ahead. Those scenarios would be too ridiculous to even imagine. But the immediate future – _that _looked fantastically exciting, full of potential for ... well, almost anything she could dream of.

'Not quite,' Arthur said. It had only been mere seconds since she had spoken, and yet she had been so lost in her own thoughts she completely missed the significance of his words. 'There's still _one _loose end to be tied before it's _really _over.'

Ariadne felt her heart skip a beat as she finally registered what he was talking about. 'And ... what would that be?'

He smiled again, but this time the warmth didn't quite reach his eyes. 'You'll see.'

She was too busy reliving the déjà vu to spot his hand as it slid into his right pocket. It stayed there as he made his way to the bathroom, a small tub clutched in his other hand.

'What are you doing?' she asked as she stood up and followed him to the doorway, more out of curiosity than a pressing need to really know.

Arthur began to chuckle, the glint of amusement returning to his dark eyes. 'Has anyone ever told you, you ask too many questions?'

Ariadne cocked one eyebrow at him and crossed her arms. 'Once or twice.'

Arthur unscrewed the small container and tilted it towards her so she could see its contents. 'I can't very well go out with my hair looking like _this_, now, can I?'

She glanced up at the hair in question, only just realising that it was fluffy once more, sticking out in all directions, his fringe falling in loose strands over his forehead. He had shaved, too – likely with the complimentary razor still plugged into the wall socket. _Shame, I quite liked the rough look, _she found herself thinking. This time she _did_ roll her eyes and shook her head. Arthur appeared not to notice her self-rebuke, for he had turned back to the mirror and was dipping his fingers into the sticky substance.

'No, don't!' she blurted out, reaching forwards and snatching the pot from him.

He looked down at her, stunned and almost certainly confused. His hand was frozen in midair, halfway to his head, his brow furrowed.

'Ariadne, what – '

'Leave it off for once,' she said, hiding the tub behind her back.

_This is so _not _childish, _the little voice in her head scoffed. She ignored it and took a step backwards, away from the bathroom.

'What on earth are you talking about?' he asked, now resting his wrist on the edge of the sink to stop the gel from dripping onto his new clothes.

'Give your hair a break from all this gunk,' she elaborated. 'It'll thank you for it, trust me.'

For the life of her she couldn't think what had possessed her to behave in such a way, but there was no turning back now. She couldn't relent – not without looking even more foolish than she already did. Arthur had finally realised what she was going on about, it seemed, for he washed his fingers under the warm water and followed her out of the bathroom.

'I can't remember the last time I didn't use gel in my hair,' he said, holding his hand out for the pot. 'Come on, allow me this one thing. I ... don't really feel right without it. It would be like you not wearing your scarf.'

'No, you not wearing your _tie_ would be like me not wearing a scarf,' she corrected.

'Okay, it would be like you ... not drying your hair before you went out. I'm sure there are products you use, too, right?'

Ariadne considered this as she continued her journey backwards, determinedly keeping her hands behind her. 'I might use the odd frizz-ease serum, but that's it. And I don't use it every day like you do with this stuff.'

Arthur shook his head, still advancing on her. 'That's beside the point. You still use it to make yourself look – and feel – better. You can't deny it.'

No, she couldn't. But that fact still didn't stop her from trying her best to dissuade him.

'But your hair looks _good _when it's fluffy. It's ... kind of cute, actually.'

She felt her legs hit the edge of the mattress and stopped, watching as he closed the distance between them. He stood mere inches from her, looking down at her with a faux-serious expression, though without quite managing to keep his obvious amusement suppressed.

'I don't do _cute_,' he said, his hands flexing by his side as he watched her. '_Cute _doesn't intimidate people into doing what I want them to. It wouldn't do for a Point Man to be _cute_.'

Ariadne barely had time to react before he wrapped his arms around her waist, his reflexes quicker than she could ever have imagined. She felt his hands grip her wrists behind her back, firmly yet somehow still gently. She tried to struggle free, but it was no use – he was far stronger than her. He brought his right foot forwards and hooked it around her ankle, sending her tumbling backwards onto the bed.

'Now,' he began, his voice soft, almost silky, 'I believe _I _have the upper hand here.'

He leant over her, placing one knee on the edge of the mattress, next to her left hip, and eased her arms out from under her back. She was pinned to the bed now, with no way of escaping. Still he stooped lower, his hair falling over his forehead as the corner of his mouth pulled into a satisfied smirk. Again the déjà vu washed over her – the same sensation she had felt so long ago, waiting for him to brush her cheek, his face so close to hers she only had to inch towards him ...

'God, this is so clichéd,' she murmured.

She felt a thrill shoot up her spine as he chuckled, still refusing to let her go. She felt the mattress shift beneath her as he pressed his knee deeper into it. If anyone were to walk in right then ...

'You know,' Arthur said quietly, 'if you wanted me to change' – he slid his hand over her wrist, her skin tingling under his cool touch, and prised the tub from her grip – 'all you had to do was ask nicely.'

He stood there for a few moments longer, his dark eyes boring into hers, before easing himself up off the bed and returning to the bathroom. Ariadne struggled to sit up, her heart racing in her chest as she watched him. She took a few deep breaths, wondering just what the hell had happened, and was about to renew her protests over the use of the gel when Arthur strolled back out, his hair decidedly gel-less. He had, however, given it a quick brush, tidying it up though without ruining the fluffiness that she had become suddenly so fixated with. He rolled down his sleeves, buttoned them, then pulled his newly-bought suit jacket from its plastic covering.

'Well, are you going to join me or just sit there for the rest of the day?' he asked, his lips twitching against the smile she knew was there.

He slipped his arms into the jacket, checked the knot of his tie, and patted his pockets, clearly verifying that he had everything. Ariadne took another few moments to realise that he was preparing to leave before jumping off the bed and grabbing her phone from the bedside table. She snatched her own brand-new black coat from one of the paper bags he had brought in and followed him out of the door, her mind still spinning with the thought of their exchange minutes earlier.

Ariadne decided she rather liked this new – albeit unexpected – playful Arthur. It was exciting, treading these untested waters with him. Exploring the boundaries one another had set, seeing how far they could push. But yet again he had disappointed her hopes, left her hanging right at the point when she had thought it would finally happen.

Perhaps he was teasing her, she mused. Building up her anticipation only to dash it at the last moment. Making her _really _want it before giving in.

Or perhaps ... he was simply too frightened to take that final leap of faith, to make the jump from dream to reality. He had never been as relaxed in her company in the 'real' world as he was sharing dreams with her, for whatever reason. But he was changing, gradually. They both were. It was inevitable, after all that had happened.

However, she was determined. She _would _get her way in the end. There was no doubt about that. She never shied away from a challenge.

And getting their usually-collected Point Man to finally kiss her in reality was going to be the biggest yet, it seemed.

**A/N: So, a bit of _almost_-fluff for you all! I know, I'm a tease. Poor Ari - will she ever manage it? Though I think you already know the answer to that one. ;)**

**Now, I already know how I'm going to end this - I've known for quite some time - it's just actually getting there. I think I'm just going to see how it comes out and just tell you when it's done instead of making predictions! Because, quite frankly, I suck at them where this story is concerned.**

**Hope you enjoyed a slightly less serious chapter - they do deserve some down-time, after all - and are looking forward to the next one. :)**


	60. Chapter 60

**60.**

Arthur stopped at the receptionist's desk on the way out to book another night in the hotel. _Just in case,_ he told himself. They still had not decided what to do after his 'business' was done and dusted, and as Point Man he knew that a backup plan was always much more than handy – it was essential.

He happened to glance over at Ariadne as he stood at the desk, waiting for his card to be verified in the reader, and noticed the glint of bronze in her hand. She placed her totem on the nearby counter and quickly pushed it over, before snatching it up and shoving it into her pocket again. He smiled, understanding exactly how she must be feeling – he, too, had checked his totem upon waking up earlier that morning, hardly daring to believe that the scenario was real. He had watched her sleeping for a while, her breathing steady, almost mesmeric, before testing his die and receiving the comforting six he had been expecting. On a more important level, he was extremely glad to see her trying her totem out. God only knew how confused she must have felt upon waking up in the limousine. It had been relatively painless for him – he had never lost sight of the fact that Limbo wasn't real, after all – but Ariadne ... her experience had been virtually the polar opposite of his. Checking in with reality every now and then would certainly do her no harm. And he intended to make sure that she didn't stop.

'You've been booked in for another night, sir,' the young receptionist said – a man this time, not much older than Ariadne, by the look of him. 'Can I help you with anything else today?'

'No, thank you, that's fine,' Arthur replied as he slid the card into his wallet and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

'Enjoy your day, sir.'

He nodded at the man before turning around and gesturing for Ariadne to follow. She duly obliged, her hand still squeezed into her jeans pocket. _Maybe they _are _a little too tight, after all, _Arthur mused as he appraised the denims. Not that he was complaining, of course. But he hated to think how much her totem would be digging into her leg right then. It certainly wasn't the softest of objects. He had become well-acquainted with it during the years spent in Limbo.

'So, where are we going?' Ariadne asked once they stepped out into the brilliant sunshine.

Arthur glanced at her as she pulled her coat off and slung it over her arm. 'You'll – '

' – soon see. Yes, I know,' she sighed, shaking her head. 'Since when did you become so mysterious and tight-lipped about things?'

'A little mystery is rather exciting, don't you find?

Ariadne raised her eyebrows at him, clearly unconvinced by his poor attempt at deflection. 'I would have thought _you _would be the last person to appreciate surprises, given your penchant for details and your almost obsessive need to know _exactly _what's going on at any given moment.'

'Yes, but that doesn't mean that _others_ can't appreciate them.'

'I don't like surprises,' she said bluntly. 'I don't like not knowing what I'm getting into.'

Arthur simply smiled, slipping both hands into his trouser pockets as he began to whistle a familiar tune. A childhood song, he soon realised, though he had no idea why it had suddenly popped into his head.

'Oh, come on,' she pleaded. 'Not even a hint?'

'It's really not the kind of surprise you're thinking of,' he replied, the humour all but gone from his voice. 'I'm not even sure you'll like it. But ... it's just something I need to do before I can really move on.'

Arthur left her to ponder his words as he hailed the next taxi, opening the door and motioning for Ariadne to get in. She was silent as he handed the driver the small business card with the address of their destination.

Not a single word passed between them during the ten minutes it took to complete the short journey. Ariadne had obviously realised that he was not going to give in to her demands, and Arthur – well, his thoughts were elsewhere for the time being. He pictured the scene to come in his head, wondering just what was awaiting them. His pulse quickened as the taxi finally stopped, and he asked the driver to wait for them.

They stood there for a few moments, looking up at the glass-fronted building. It was relatively small, tucked away from the glitz and glamour of the hotels and casinos of the strip. The small plaque next to the entrance proclaimed it to be 'The Milton Hospice' with the doctor's name – one Dr. Henry Milton – inscribed underneath. Arthur glanced at Ariadne, who was still reading the name with interest, and made his up the few stairs and through the glass double-doors. He walked up to the small reception desk and smiled down at the lady.

'Can I help you, sir?' she asked, returning his gesture.

'I'm here to see George Cavendish,' he replied.

'Are you a relative of the family?'

'No, more ... an old friend.'

He sensed rather than heard Ariadne stopping just behind him, quietly listening to his exchange with the receptionist.

'I'm afraid our policy is to only allow patients' relatives in at this time,' the lady said, her smile now gone.

'I just wanted to drop something off for him. A sort-of get-well present. It will only take a few minutes, I promise.'

Arthur gazed down at her, his expression impassive, his eyes beseeching her to grant him his request. She sighed and shook her head.

'His wife is in with him now. If you don't mind waiting, I'll have a quick word with Mrs. Cavendish and see how she feels about allowing you in.'

'Thank you, I appreciate it.'

She hurried away from the desk and down the long corridor, disappearing into a room at the far end. Ariadne moved next to Arthur once she had vanished, and looked up at him.

'So this is the last thing you had to do?' she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Arthur nodded, his eyes still on the door the receptionist had walked through. 'But ... I thought Cobb wasn't allowed in the States back then, what with his charges and all. How is Cavendish here?'

Arthur smiled in spite of himself. _She doesn't miss a thing._

'We didn't perform the Extraction on him here in Vegas,' he explained with a quick glance at her. 'That was in Monaco, a month after he'd left Vegas and claimed a fortune in the casinos here. But his family wanted him moved here when he fell into a coma, so that he could be closer to home.'

Ariadne nodded, accepting his account with question. She was quiet for a few moments, before speaking again.

'What _is _this place, anyway? I know it says 'hospice' outside, but for what?'

'It's for coma patients, and those who have recently woken from one. It's a private rest home. People pay a lot of money to have their relatives moved here. Dr. Milton is one of the world's leading consultants on neurology, and specifically within the field of comatose patients. He's had more success bringing people back than any other doctor.'

'But ... Cavendish ... '

She didn't complete her sentence. There was no need to; Arthur knew exactly what she was thinking.

'Yes, his coma wasn't natural. It had nothing to do with his health or any underlying medical condition. But of course, nobody but us knows that. And they never _can_.'

His warning was pointless. He didn't even have to voice it to her – he knew he could trust her – but it felt better to do so, for some reason. Perhaps he was only reminding himself ...

The door at the end of the corridor finally opened again, and the receptionist hurried back to her desk. She smiled up at them once she was sitting down at her desk.

'Mrs. Cavendish is happy for you to go in, though she would like to speak to you first. I asked if she would like Dr. Milton to be informed of your visit, but she didn't think that was necessary. It's the room at the end of the corridor, number 9.'

Arthur nodded. _So they leave it down to the relatives to decide if others outside of the family can visit the patients, _he thought._ Interesting._

'Thank you for your help,' he said.

With that he turned and headed towards the room in question, Ariadne following close behind. He made a brief study of his surroundings as he walked, taking in the rather bland feel of the place. The walls, doors and floors were all bright white, not unlike many hospitals he had frequented down the years. It was a modern-looking, rather uninspiring building. The odd vase of flowers sat on the occasional table, the reds and yellows of the flowers in stark contrast to the rest of the environment. There was nothing to excite his own, rather more traditional tastes. And yet the success rate of the hospice was commendable. _They must be doing _something _right._

Arthur hesitated outside the door to Room 9, his heart now hammering in his chest. This was it – the moment of truth, as others would say. He couldn't help but dread what he would find behind the door. What if Cavendish hadn't woken up at all? Then again, what if he _had_?

'It's okay,' Ariadne said quietly. He felt her hand on his arm, gently stroking it. 'This is why you helped him in Limbo, right? So he could finally wake up and live his _real_ life again.'

'But what if he doesn't remember anything?' he murmured. 'He was down there for over a year. That's longer than most people last in a natural coma.'

'This wasn't a normal coma, though,' she reminded him. 'You said so yourself. Whatever the outcome, it's got to be better than being stuck in Limbo forever by himself. He has his family around him now.' She paused, clearly sensing his lingering doubt. 'You did the right thing, Arthur.'

He nodded, took a deep breath, and rapped on the door with his knuckles. He waited, his palms now moist with sweat, until it was finally pulled open. The face of a woman peered out – middle-aged, her auburn hair pulled into a loose ponytail at the back of her head, her green eyes taking in the two strangers standing outside her husband's room.

'May I ask your names?' she said, her voice low.

'I'm Arthur, and this is my good friend Ariadne.'

'And how do you know my husband? He never mentioned you at all.'

Again Arthur hesitated. He didn't want to lie to the woman, and yet there was no way he could tell her the truth. She wouldn't believe him even if he did, and for good reason.

'We used to be colleagues of George's,' he replied. 'I just wanted to give you my condolences and leave a small gift for him. It will only take a matter of minutes, Mrs. Cavendish, I promise.'

Almost involuntarily he recalled the last time he had seen the man in reality, unconscious in his hotel room in Monaco. It had almost convinced him to give up Extraction entirely, until Cobb had reminded him of all the good aspects of their work; had told him that renouncing what he loved most wasn't the best way to get over his own guilt. And he had been right. If Arthur had jacked it all in, he would never have had the chance to go into Limbo and rescue the man he had spent months dreaming about, beating himself up over.

He would never have had the chance to meet the petite Architect standing beside him, her hand still resting on his forearm, a gentle reminder of her continued presence, her unshakeable faith in him.

Cavendish's wife looked at him for a few moments, summing up his words, before stepping back and opening the door fully. 'Apparently no-one has told you,' she said slowly. 'George finally woke up last night. After more than a year.'

Arthur tried to feign surprise – in truth, it wasn't _entirely _an act, for he hadn't known for sure what would happen once Cavendish had jumped, whether he would indeed escape Limbo. 'That's wonderful news,' he said, smiling down at the woman. 'To have woken up after so long – I'll bet Dr. Milton is pleased, too.'

The woman snorted. 'The good doctor wanted to pull the life-support not so very long ago. He only backed down because I was adamant that I wasn't going to let him do it.' She shook her head. 'But I will warn you, he's not himself. I don't know how long ago you last saw him, but he ... doesn't really remember anything. Not even his own wife and kids.'

Her voice broke at the end and she covered her face with her hands. She trembled with the force of the sobs that racked her body. Arthur stood there, feeling completely helpless as he watched the woman break down before him. What could he do? He didn't _know_ her – and besides, he had never been very good at comforting people.

Arthur watched as Ariadne stepped forwards and put her arms around the weeping woman. 'It's okay, Mrs. Cavendish,' she whispered. 'The important thing is he's back. Things can only get better from here on.'

It took a few minutes for her to finally calm down enough to look up at them, smiling at Ariadne as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. 'I'm sorry,' she murmured. 'That seems to be happening a lot lately.'

'It's perfectly understandable, Mrs. Cavendish,' Ariadne said. 'You don't have to apologise.'

'Please, dear, call me Julie.' She took a deep breath, apparently trying to regain her composure. 'Do come in.'

She walked into the room, gesturing for them both to follow. Arthur went first; Ariadne closed the door behind her and hung back, away from the man's bed. George Cavendish was laying under the covers, propped up by at least three pillows behind his back and head, tubes running from his wrists and nose. Arthur stopped inches away from the bed, looking down at the emaciated man before him.

'You probably don't remember me, George,' Arthur began, acutely aware that the eyes of everyone in the room were on him. 'It was a long time ago that we last spoke.'

'I'm afraid he can't speak,' Julie said behind him. 'The doctor says he may never regain the power of speech. But then again, he said he would never wake up either, and look how George has proven him wrong.'

Arthur nodded; he had already known that the conversation would be one-sided. What he had to say would only take a few minutes, though, and then he would leave. This was something he _had _to do, a decision he had made right before they had plunged from the Eiffel Tower. He knew it was the right one.

Cavendish was looking up at him, his sunken eyes narrowed as he took in the Point Man's appearance. It seemed as though he wanted to say something, but was unable to force the words out.

'It's okay, sir. I know how confusing this must be for you after ... everything.' Arthur slipped his hand into his pocket and gripped the tiny plastic cube nestled there. 'I just wanted to leave you something, a ... reminder, if you will.'

He pulled his hand back out, still clutching his totem. Without any hesitation he reached down and placed it in the other man's open palm and took a step back, as though trying to distance himself from his act. Cavendish stared at the red die for a while, his brow knitted with what appeared to be confusion mingled with ... something bordering recognition? No, perhaps that was simply Arthur's own desire being projected onto the man's face. It was far too soon for that – if full memory recollection ever came back to him, that was.

'It's just something to help you remember,' Arthur said quietly. He placed a small white envelope on the side table with Cavendish's name scrawled in his own neat handwriting. 'I wish you all the best in the future, sir. You deserve it.'

He held the man's gaze for a long moment before turning on his heel and walking over to the doorway, where Ariadne still stood, watching the exchange with interest.

'I thank you, young man,' Julie said, grasping his hand and squeezing it between both of hers. 'George hasn't had any friends come to visit in so long. It's a shame yours has to be so brief.'

'I'm sure you'd like to be alone with him,' Arthur replied, 'given that he's only just woken up. But I promise, I'll come back every so often to see how he's doing, if you'll permit me.'

'Oh, of course! Come as often as you like. I'm sure George would appreciate some different company.'

'Thank you.'

The woman released her hold on him and smiled at them both as Arthur pulled the door open. With one last look at Cavendish and a nod to his wife, he ushered Ariadne out and closed the door behind him.

They walked in silence until they were standing outside the small building. The taxi was still there; the driver was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he sang along to the radio – badly, Arthur noted. He held the door open for Ariadne and slid in after her.

'Where do you wanna go?' the driver asked, twisting his head around to look at them.

'Back to the hotel will be fine, thank you,' Arthur replied.

He settled into his seat and waited in silence. He knew that Ariadne wanted to say something; he also had a good idea what it was going to be, but allowed her to collect her thoughts rather than prompt her.

It wasn't long before he was proven correct. 'I think that was a lovely thing you did back there,' she said finally, looking up him. 'I mean, to give him your totem like that ... it would have meant a lot to him.'

'It was the least I could do,' Arthur muttered. 'After everything ... it just felt like the right decision. It helped him to remember in Limbo, so maybe – one day ... '

Ariadne nodded. 'It certainly won't hurt.' She paused; Arthur noticed her hand slipping into her pocket. 'But ... won't you need it? I mean, what if one day you need to check, in a dream?'

Arthur was quiet for a long time as he sorted out his answer in his mind. He wasn't sure how to tell her, how she would react. Would she think he was making the right choice?

He took a deep breath. 'I'm not going to be doing any more Extractions.'

There, he had said it. It was official now, not simply a half-realised thought in his head. Somehow, saying it out loud made him feel infinitely better, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

'I had a feeling you would say that,' Ariadne replied. Arthur looked at her – that was a response he had _not _been expecting. 'I've been thinking the same, too. I mean, I know I wasn't actually involved in any Extractions – but dream-sharing as a whole. After everything that's happened ... '

She trailed off, unable to complete the sentence. Arthur didn't need to hear it, for he was thinking exactly the same. He reached down and took hold of her hand, clutching it loosely in his own. There was no need for words, not this time.

'How comes you didn't stay longer?' Ariadne asked after a few minutes, her right hand now out of her pocket and resting on her lap.

'It was just something I had to do,' he said. 'Quick and painless ... like a Band-Aid.'

The irony was not lost on her, it seemed, for she smiled and nodded her head. 'So ... what now then?'

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a half-smirk as he stared resolutely ahead, determined not to meet her eye. He already knew how she would react to his reply.

'You'll see.'

**A/N: Okay, I've come to the decision that the next chapter WILL be the last in the story. It's already longer than I had expected by around 6 chapters, but I don't want to drag it on unnecessarily. I feel it would lessen the impact of the previous chapters, but also, on a more practical level, I won't actually have much time to write after this weekend. What I don't want is to leave it hanging and _not_ finish it, which could well happen once I'm on my first school placement as I'll be inundated with work.**

**So I apologise to all those who wanted it to continue for a while longer. If it's of any consolation, I'm thinking of writing a (much shorter!) sequel to it eventually. I may update it as and when I have the time, but would rather get this story finished first and rounded off with a neat resolution. Look out for the final chapter tomorrow some time! Till then, goodnight all, and happy reading. :)**


	61. Chapter 61

**A/N: This is it! The final chapter! Yes, I decided to keep it to just this one, though it is extra-long to compensate. I really hope you enjoy it. :)**

**61.**

As Arthur had expected, there was a car already waiting for them outside the hotel, with a very familiar figure leaning against the boot. He thanked the driver, paid him the fare plus a generous tip, and then slid out of the taxi. Ariadne walked around to join him, still protesting about his 'insistence on secrecy today', when she spotted the newcomer. She stared at him for a few moments, apparently trying to work out whether her eyes were playing tricks on her.

'Hello, darling.'

'Eames!' she cried. 'What – why are _you _here?'

The Forger pulled a face and cocked his eyebrow at her. 'Well, that wasn't quite the welcome I was expecting, but I suppose it'll do.'

He offered her a hug, which she duly stepped into. Arthur moved closer, inspecting the rental car – a black Chrysler 300 – over his companion's shoulder, and smiled. _Trust Eames to go for the biggest and best._ Then again, he would likely have chosen the same, so who was he to argue?

'Seriously though, why _are _you here?' Ariadne asked again once Eames had released her from the embrace. 'I thought you were staying around L.A.?'

'Change of plan,' he replied with a shrug. 'I got a wake-up call this morning and jumped on the next flight.'

Ariadne glanced up at Arthur, her brow furrowed. Her question was plain to see; she didn't even have to voice it.

'I contacted him and suggested that he meet us here,' Arthur said.

'Yeah, I got the pity call, being all alone in a big, bad city with nothing to do,' Eames smirked. 'Now, I'm all for change, darling,' he began, rounding on Arthur, 'but what _have _you done to your hair?'

Arthur pursed his lips together. 'I fancied something different.'

Eames cocked his eyebrow. 'Mm, I'll bet.'

His eyes slid over to their Architect, clearly not fooled by Arthur's excuse. Ariadne still looked confused by the Forger's sudden appearance – and seemed to have missed the last exchange entirely – but she simply shook her head and questioned them no further. Eames gazed up at the impressive building of the Bellagio and let out a low whistle.

'So, you decided to stay here, eh? Can't say I'm too surprised, what with you being so high maintenance and all.'

Ariadne narrowed her eyes at him, before realising that he was directing his words at the Point Man. Arthur accepted the sarcasm with aplomb, dismissing it with a shrug of his shoulders. It was true, after all. He couldn't deny that.

'So, what's the plan then?' Eames asked, clapping his hands together. 'Are we heading off straight away?'

Arthur shook his head. 'No, I need to stop off somewhere first. It won't take long.'

He held his hands out for the car keys, which Eames promptly hid behind his back. Arthur rolled his eyes at the childish act.

'You don't even know the way, so it's best if I drive.'

Eames seemed about to protest, but seeing the look on the Point Man's face, quickly changed his mind. He slapped the keys into Arthur's hand and opened the boot of the car. Arthur watched as he pulled out a familiar silver case. _The PASIV._

'Saito's men took it from Browning's limo before they torched it,' the Forger explained. 'I thought you might like it, seeing as you don't have yours anymore.'

Arthur stared at the case – the object that had practically been his right hand for the past five years – warring with his own thoughts. No, he had already made his decision. Besides, he no longer had a totem to use. It would be too dangerous without one. Still, the lure of the promises – the challenges – it held had always beentempting ...

'I've decided to give it up,' he said quietly. 'We both have.'

Eames looked at him, eyebrows raised, then at Ariadne, who had come to stand next to Arthur. She put her hand on his arm – the same gesture she had offered back at the hospice. He had made the right choice. He _had _to believe that.

'No-one gives it up,' Eames replied, shaking his head. 'Not really. Once you're sucked in, that's it.'

'And what about Cobb?' Ariadne pointed out. 'He's giving it up for his family.'

'For the time being, yes. But you'll see – he won't be able to quit it completely. One day, he'll come back.'

'And maybe _one day_, so will I,' Arthur said. 'But right now, I have no plans to hook up to that machine any time in the near future. So you may as well keep it. Besides, I no longer have a totem. It would be too risky, even for ... pleasure.'

_Especially for pleasure, _he thought with a quick glance at Ariadne. They both knew the dangers – what had happened to Dom and Mal. He wouldn't allow them to repeat the same mistake, even if it meant going cold turkey. The incentive was there; as if they needed another after all they had been through the last time ...

'Suit yourself,' Eames said with a shrug. 'I'll hold onto it for now. Just in case.'

He placed the PASIV back into the boot and slammed it shut, waiting for the others to get into the car before hopping into the back himself. Arthur turned the key into the ignition and set off, clearly recalling his intended destination in his mind despite the intervening years. He was pleased to note that the car was a manual – he had always preferred to be in complete control rather than rely on automatic gear changes.

'So what'd you do with your totem?' Eames asked after a few silent minutes, flipping his own on his thumb in his customary fashion. 'I don't imagine you accidentally lost it.'

'No, I didn't,' Arthur conceded. 'I left it with Cavendish.'

He glanced in the rear-view mirror to gauge the Forger's reaction. He had paused in his chip-tossing, but other than that seemed perfectly unaffected.

'I see. So that's why yours was a loaded die. Makes sense now.'

Arthur said nothing, only kept his eyes trained on the road ahead. He ventured a quick look at Ariadne, who was sitting quietly in the passenger's seat, rolling her own totem around in her palm. She seemed to be staring at it rather intently, as though scrutinising it, searching for an answer within its smooth metal casing.

'Isn't it funny how both of ours are linked to gambling?' Eames chuckled. 'I would never have guessed it of you. Mine's just to remind me that, sometimes, you need to take a chance to win big.'

'So you're never afraid to _dream a little bigger_?' Arthur shot at him, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

Eames grinned. 'Something like that.' He turned to Ariadne, who was still looking at the small chess piece in her hand. 'What about yours, love? Feel like sharing?'

It took Ariadne a few moments to realise that the Forger was addressing her. She glanced up at Arthur and then Eames.

'Oh. Well ... mine's just to remind me that I need to think things through logically. That I need to be rational and not emotional when presented with a difficult situation.'

To both of their surprise, Eames suddenly burst into fits of giggles worthy of a teenage girl. Ariadne frowned and twisted around in her seat to glare at him.

'What's so funny?' she demanded.

'Oh, nothing,' he spluttered between the laughter. 'It's just ... you two are more suited than you realise. God, how did I never see it before?'

Arthur cocked his eyebrow, watching the Forger's mirth in the mirror. He had a brief moment of panic when he thought his Limbo-companion of three decades would spill the beans on the numerous conversations they had shared, but his concern was short-lived. Eames simply shook his head and returned to his favourite pastime of flipping the poker chip, a smile still lingering on his bearded face.

Arthur pulled up alongside a row of shops a few minutes later and killed the engine. Without a word he jumped out of the car and marched straight into the florist's opposite. He already knew what he wanted to buy; it was just a matter of picking the nicest-looking bouquet.

'Can I help you, sir?' the elderly lady at the desk asked, smiling at him as he wandered through the shop.

'I'm looking for your best bunch of white lilies, please,' he replied.

'Are they for a special someone?'

Arthur nodded. 'Very special.'

He handed her a small piece of paper on which was written the note he wanted to accompany the bouquet.

'Then might I suggest a wreath such as this one?' She walked into the small back room, and quickly re-emerged with a splendid wreath filled with – as far as Arthur could tell with his limited knowledge – white roses, lilies and gerberas. 'It's been a mainstay of my shop for years. People often choose it.'

'It's beautiful, thank you,' Arthur said, reaching into his pocket and taking out his wallet. 'And there's one other thing I'd like ... '

He returned to the car within minutes, pulling open the back door and handing Eames the floral wreath before jumping into the driver's seat. Ariadne twisted around to look at the bouquet; Arthur heard her inhale the pungent scent of the lilies as he pulled away from the kerb.

'Oh, Arthur, you really shouldn't have,' Eames smirked from the back.

Again Arthur rolled his eyes and wondered just what had possessed him to invite the Forger down for their mini road trip.

'Who are they for?' Ariadne asked as she turned around in her seat again.

'Someone very dear to me,' the Point Man replied simply.

He ventured a glance at her and found her frowning at him, clearly unsatisfied with his response. He said no more, only concentrated on the road signs that would lead him to the right destination. It wasn't far ...

'You'll soon find out, love, don't worry,' Eames assured her.

Ariadne's eyebrows shot up as she regarded the Forger, still clutching the flowers as though his life depended on it. 'So _you _know exactly what's going on, and _I_ don't?'

'Of course. I'm better at wheedling information out than you, dear. Besides, didn't you know we're best buddies now? He tells me _everything_.'

Arthur noted the wink he sent their Architect as she slumped back into her seat, decidedly unimpressed. She folded her arms across her chest and pouted – in that rather irresistible way that he, for whatever reason, found incredibly appealing. But he was far too astute to fall for it; she had tried those tactics once before, and they hadn't worked then, either.

'Ignore him,' he sighed. 'He's known for a long time.'

'But he's not denying we're best pals.'

Eames began to chuckle as Arthur shot him a glare in the mirror. Ariadne looked between the two of them, clearly puzzled by their banter.

'Seems you two did some 'male bonding' down in Limbo,' she muttered.

'You could say that,' Eames agreed. 'Some things just bring two guys together. Making sure he stayed sane down there long enough to find you is one of them. Not to mention stopping him from beating the living daylights out of an old-aged pensioner.'

Arthur gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and pressed harder on the accelerator. He could feel Ariadne's eyes on him, watching for his reaction to Eames' comments, but he remained impassive. Except for the slight tensing of his jaw muscles, that was. Thankfully she refrained from questioning him, and he was spared the embarrassment of admitting that he had broken the nose of a seventy-year-old man. Yes, he was certainly starting to regret his call to Eames earlier that morning ...

'Any word from Cobb yet?' the Forger asked, shedding his joker persona in much the same way a snake would its skin.

'He sent me a text early this morning with a picture of Browning and instructions on what to do,' Arthur replied. 'And told me that Miles had taken his kids and mother-in-law to San Diego to stay with family there until they sort out what to do with the house.'

'Oh God, did you _see _Browning's face during that press conference? It was like watching someone sucking lemons. Fantastic. Old bastard deserves everything he gets.'

Arthur couldn't help but agree, though he kept the thought to himself. He wanted to forget about their ordeal with Denley and Browning as quickly as possible and move on with the rest of his life. _That_ episode was over; it was time to start afresh.

'I take it we're going down to Cobb once we're finished here?' Eames asked casually.

'Of course. He'll need all the help he can get.'

Arthur heard Ariadne shift in the leather seat and glanced down to find her frowning at him yet again. She seemed to be weighing up his words before voicing her own.

'I thought Cobb said no contact for two weeks?'

'Darling, please,' Eames sighed. 'Even _Cobb_ doesn't follow his own advice. You should know that by now. Besides, if our ex-stick-in-the-mud here was going to listen to _that _rule, he wouldn't have called me, now, would he?'

'But _you_ were the one who said we should split up, just in case,' Ariadne insisted, still addressing Arthur.

'I know,' he said with a nod. 'But after seeing the way Dom handled Browning, I don't think we're likely to run into any more trouble with him. It's more than he'd dare do. Like I said, I think he'd appreciate the help _and_ the company. We shouldn't repeat the same mistake as last time and abandon each other after the job's over.'

'Hear, hear,' Eames chorused.

Ariadne accepted his reasoning without comment. It was yet another indication of just how much the Point Man had changed in the last week – and after the years in Limbo; how he had reassessed his priorities in light of everything that had happened. He couldn't cling to every one of his old methods if he were to _really _alter his own future. Some compromises had to be made, and this was one of them.

They travelled the rest of the journey in silence. Arthur noted the odd glance that Ariadne sent his way, but studiously ignored them. It wasn't long before they were driving through a large, wrought-iron gate and down a wide road lined with lush trees. He killed the engine for a second time and stepped out of the car to the sight of thousands of gravestones littering the landscape. Eames handed him the flowers out of the back window, though remained seated himself. Arthur walked around to the other side and opened Ariadne's door.

'Come on, there's someone I want you to meet,' he said.

She stepped out and looked around. 'What about Eames?'

'He's staying put. It won't take too long.'

He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her along the path, deliberately avoiding her gaze. The spot was less than fifty metres away, in full view of the rental car. They approached two tombstones in the middle of one of the many rows. They were a little grimy, having not been cleaned in a few weeks, but the stone was remarkably undamaged. Arthur had seen to it that the best material be used, the hardiest, no matter the expense. He had also employed someone to keep the area tidy and make sure the headstones were relatively dirt-free, at least until the day when he could do it himself.

Ariadne squatted down to read the names: **CHARLES GARETH MILLER**, **CATHERINE LOUISE MILLER** and **KEVIN ROBERT MILLER**. Arthur bent down to place the wreath on his parents' graves, running his thumb over his mother's name before standing back to take in the effect. Ariadne straightened up, too.

'Your family?' she asked quietly.

Arthur nodded. 'They died in a car crash five years ago. This is the first time I've been back since burying them.'

'I'm sorry,' she said, linking her arm through his as they stood there, looking down at the graves. 'Eames already knows?'

'Yes. He managed to wheedle it out of me during one of our conversations in Limbo. A particularly enlightening one, too, I may add.'

He smiled down at her, briefly, before returning his attention to his family's names. The five years had gone so fast – he could still remember receiving the phone call early the next morning, how he had sat down on his kitchen floor and stared at the fridge door for the next two hours. The funeral passed in a daze, with various well-wishers, relatives and family friends giving him their condolences. It wasn't until he was on the plane to Europe to meet up with Cobb again that he had finally given in to the urge to cry, locked in the tiny economy-class toilet for nearly half an hour with other passengers and stewardesses banging on the door in a bid to get him out. Not a day passed when he didn't think of them at least once, but he had managed to move on, accepting his life for what it was. Which, when he thought about it, wasn't that bad at all. Not now.

'So, what's _your_ middle name then?' Ariadne asked, finally breaking the silence between them. Arthur looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. 'Come on, you can tell me,' she coaxed. 'I promise I won't tell Eames.'

Arthur chuckled. 'It's not much of a secret. It's my paternal grandfather's first name. Very easy to find out, if you know how.'

'Yes, but I'm not _you_,' Ariadne sighed. 'I don't have access to every single piece of information in the entire world.'

'It's ... a little embarrassing, actually,' Arthur admitted. Ariadne pouted at him for the third time in two days, and this time he couldn't resist. 'Fine. It's – Ebenezer.'

Ariadne was trying not to smile – he just _knew _it. She turned her face away from him.

'No, that's – not that bad,' she said.

He could feel her shaking with the force of the laughter she was trying to hold in. Arthur rolled his eyes and twisted her around to face him. She simply grinned and _just _managed to stifle her giggle.

'All right then, what's yours?' he shot back.

Her amusement disappeared in an instance. It was replaced by a stony, defiant look that Arthur knew well.

'Now, it's only fair that I know yours. It _can't_ be worse than mine.'

'Yes it can,' she muttered darkly. 'You don't know my parents.' Arthur waited patiently for her answer, his eyes never leaving hers. 'All right,' she sighed. 'Mildred.'

Arthur managed to keep his poker face intact – just. 'So, I gather one parent liked the Classics, and the other ... ?'

'Insisted I be named after her mother in some way. I'm just glad my dad got his way on my first name, and not the other way around.'

'Well, I think we should just be thankful we don't have Eames' misfortune,' Arthur smiled.

Ariadne snapped her eyes up to look at him; they were lit with an eager expectation that he had not seen for a long time. Arthur couldn't help but laugh.

'Oh come on, you can't leave it like that!' she insisted. 'You _have _to tell me now.'

'It's Hilary.' And he didn't even feel bad about telling her. 'I found out when I did some research on him, way back. But he doesn't know that _I _know.'

Ariadne burst out laughing, the sound echoing around the deathly quiet surroundings. She immediately clamped her hand over her mouth to smother her mirth.

'Oh my God, are you serious?'

Arthur nodded, his face split with a grin. 'Apparently his father was a big fan of John Wayne back in the day. Though I'm not sure why he didn't give him 'John' or 'Wayne' instead. Perhaps he also had a cruel sense of humour.'

'Robert Hilary Eames. Hmm, I think it suits him.'

Arthur nodded as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. He looked down at the graves again for a few minutes longer before taking his other hand from behind his back and holding it out to Ariadne.

'This one's for you.'

It was a single red rose, the largest and most perfect he had ever seen. As soon as he had spied it in the florist's, he had known that he just _had _to buy it. Ariadne took it from him, gazing down at it, her mouth parted ever so slightly as she turned it over in her fingers.

'It's ... beautiful,' she murmured. 'Thank you.'

She twisted to stand in front of him, the fingers of one hand curling around the lapel of his suit jacket. Her eyes bore into his as she looked at him, seeming to come to some decision that Arthur was unaware of.

'You know,' she began softly, 'I do believe you owe me just _one _more thing.' Arthur frowned, racking his mind in a bid to think of what she could be talking about. 'You've always been much more forward in the dreams,' she continued. He noted the mischievous glint in her eyes, the small smirk on her lips. 'And I wonder ... just what will it take for you to finally kiss me here, in reality?'

Her hand moved to his red silk tie, creeping slowly upwards towards the knot. She grasped it firmly between her fingers and pulled it down, bringing his face closer to hers. Arthur had a vague thought that perhaps this wasn't the best time to be doing such a thing – in the middle of a cemetery, in front of his parents' graves – before realising that had his family still been alive, they would likely be cheering him on.

He cocked his eyebrow, knowing better than to be surprised at her boldness, before slipping his own hands around her waist. Ariadne's arms slid up to his shoulders, then wrapped around his neck as their lips finally met.

This time, the kiss was anything _but _brief; it certainly wasn't chaste, either. The intensity amazed Arthur, until he realised that it had been building up for years, at least in _his_ dreams. He pulled her closer to him, flush against his chest, one hand moving up to her neck whilst the other stayed on the small of her back. He caressed the soft skin at the nape of her neckline with the tips of his fingers, revelling in the shudder it sent through her body. If only they could stay like that forever, lost in the passion each inspired in the other. But –

'Oi, lovebirds!' came the shout from the car. 'Get a room! It's enough to make me lose my breakfast.'

If Eames had thought to embarrass the couple into breaking apart, he was to be sorely disappointed. Arthur simply extricated his hand from Ariadne's hair and sent a not-so-subtle finger-gesture the Forger's way, holding it there to ensure its full effect.

'Charming,' he heard Eames mutter. 'And I thought you had better manners than that.'

Arthur felt Ariadne smile against his lips, before she pulled away a fraction to look up into his eyes. Her breathing was heavier than it had been seconds – or it could have been whole minutes, he wasn't sure – earlier, her expression one of both amusement and satisfaction.

'And here was I thinking it was going to take me weeks to get you to do that,' she whispered, her arms still locked around his neck.

'I told you,' Arthur replied, leaning closer to her again, 'if you want anything from me, you only have to ask nicely.'

Ariadne didn't answer, only ran her fingers through his soft hair. She grinned and stood on tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips this time, before turning back to the headstones once more. She slipped her free hand into her pocket and drew out the bronze bishop. She stared at it for a while before swiftly planting it in Arthur's open palm.

It took him a few moments to realise what she had done. 'Ariadne, what – '

'I don't need it anymore,' she said without looking at him. 'I can just use you instead.'

Her words were simple, yet effective. They conveyed all that she apparently couldn't say to him out loud. He was reliable, would always be there for her if and when she needed him. He would stay by her side, reminding her of what she had, of what was _real_ – when he could believe it himself.

'But Ari – '

'Besides,' she continued, as though he hadn't spoken, 'if we ever _do _happen to go under again – for whatever reason – you'll need something to check, too. We can both use it, like Dom did with Mal's.'

'That was because she had died,' he pointed out. 'I hope you don't intend to suddenly drop dead on me so I can use it myself.'

Ariadne smiled and shook her head. 'Of course not. But really, I don't see why someone close to you _can't _use it at the same time. I'm pretty sure you're never going to pull me into a dream without me knowing about it and try to trick me into believing it's real. If you ever do, you know this is over, right?'

Arthur couldn't help the smirk that twisted his lips as the possibilities ran through his mind, every one of them too wrong to voice out loud. He never _would _use the PASIV for fun – not after what had happened to Dom and Mal – but it was ... enjoyable to imagine what might be nonetheless. He looked down at her totem again and carefully slid it into his trouser pocket. It would be more comfortable in his than her tight jeans, anyway.

They stood in silence for a while longer, Arthur memorising the details of his family's graves, imprinting the scene in his mind for when he was too far away to visit. Once he felt the time was right, he took hold of her free hand – the one that _wasn't _clutching the rose – and led her away. They walked back to the car, both smiling as they approached it. Eames was looking out of the window, a grimace on his face as he regarded them.

'About time,' he groaned. 'I wondered whether I should have popped off for a spot of tea in the meantime.'

Arthur glanced at Ariadne to find her grinning at the Forger – _at _being the operative word. He didn't even have to ask; the same thought had popped into his mind as they had headed back.

Eames flicked his eyes between the couple, one eyebrow raised. 'And just what are you two smirking at?' Arthur slid into the front seat and started the ignition as soon as Ariadne was settled. 'Come on, spill. What's with the goofy grins?'

'Oh, it's nothing,' Ariadne said without looking at him.

'Yeah, and I'm the Queen of England.' He turned to Arthur, his eyes narrowed as he watched him in the rear-view mirror. 'Do you _want _me to tell her everything we gossiped about in Limbo?'

Arthur simply smiled, knowing full well that the Forger would not follow up on his threat.

'So where are we off to now?' Ariadne asked him, for all the world as though their companion were not grumbling in the back seat of the car. 'Straight down to see Cobb?'

Arthur shook his head. 'There's no rush,' he said. 'I know a lovely little park not too far from here where we can grab a bite to eat first. It's got a great pond right at the centre.'

Eames gripped the back of their headrests, poking his head between the two. 'I mean it, I'll spill all your sordid little secrets if you don't tell me what the hell is so funny.'

Ariadne twisted her head around, forcing the Forger to sit back in his seat. Arthur watched as he narrowed his eyes at her. She turned back to face the front, running her finger over the petals of the rose nestled in her lap.

'Now, now,' she warned, venturing a quick glance at Arthur, 'that's no way to speak to your friends, Hilary.'

Eames' eyes were reduced to slits as he watched Arthur in the mirror, seeming to gauge his reaction to Ariadne's remark. The Point Man tried to keep his expression blank, but couldn't stop the twitch of his mouth as he fought against the grin. His friend's eyes opened wide as comprehension dawned on him.

'You bloody bastard!' he cried. 'You _told _her, didn't you?' Ariadne burst into a fit of giggles at the sight of Eames' mortification. 'I _knew _you knew, you stupid git. Oh, you just wait. I'll get you back for this. You just _wait_.'

Arthur smiled and said nothing. The journey down to San Diego was going to be tough, he knew. The Forger would be thinking up all manner of ways to pay him back for his indiscretion, but he found – for once – that he didn't care. He was actually looking forward to the ride, to seeing Dom and his family together at last without the threat of captivity and danger hanging over them.

It was the end of an era – his immensely successful partnership with Cobb, as well as his own dealings in shared-dreaming; at least for now. But it was also a wonderful beginning – of his new life, with the beautiful young woman sitting across from him. Not having to run from country to country, pursued by burly men with big guns. He would finally be able to enjoy his earnings in peace, and settle down in one place for longer than a few days.

For the first time in five years, he had the feeling that everything was going to turn out just fine.

**The End ... ?**

**A/N part 2: So! It has finally come to its conclusion. This is probably the hardest chapter I've written, as I wanted it to be absolutely perfect. But there, that was never likely to happen! Nothing's perfect, after all. No, not even Arthur, though he's pretty close. ;)**

**You don't know how tempted I was to draw it out, but at the same time it didn't feel right. I mean, look at the film - BANG, they finish the job, and then that's it. But it worked. I guess I sort of want the same thing here. Besides, if I DO write a sequel eventually, I need to save some content for that!**

**To all those who have followed this story - both from the very beginning and you newcomers - I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your kind words of support and enthusiasm. It has been an absolute pleasure writing this, and has newly-awakened my passion for the task once again, after months of writing very little. Perhaps now I'll be able to go back to my 'proper' story and eventually finish that. Well, after my PGCE, that is!**

**If anyone has any questions about this story, or anything in general, please feel free to PM me. I am always up for some discussion, no matter the subject, if and when I get the time to check my mail.**

**Now, I don't want to go on and on at this point as it would be too cumbersome at the end of an already long chapter. So I shall say goodbye for now, but look out for something in the future, whenever that may be. I've caught the FF bug here, and it's a good way to keep up my writing practice whilst I'm not working on other stuff. Adieu, and thank you all once again for sticking it out till the end. :)**


	62. Chapter 62

**A/N: As requested, here's a notification of the promised sequel to 'Fallout' for all those who have it on alert. :) **

**Apologies in case some people read the first version of this note, which was accidentally published as the first chapter of the sequel instead!**

**For those of you who choose to carry on with the sequel, enjoy!**


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